Céleste Mosaïque
by Apocalyptic Lore
Summary: AU. Matthew Williams, a young man living in poverty, is accepted into a unique Institute a few years after the death of his beloved mother. From the dramas of college itself to the mysteries that dwell upon his Institute, what's an unfortunate teen to do?
1. A Gift From Heaven

A/N: Indeed, it seems as though I have crossed over to the dark side. Yep, a School Fiction. I feel I really didn't do Matthew justice in my other fics, so here's a new story to make up for it. The style may be slightly different (more details and less dialogue- I mean, Canada's the main character, after all).

I've been attempting different prompts, and decided it was time for the dreaded school FF. I will try my best to make it original. There will be OC's, but only one will have much significance.

**I proudly present "C****é****leste Mosa****ï****que". Enjoy and Review.**

* * *

"Ungh…" Matthew had grumbled, sitting in a slump at the pale oak desk in the bedroom of his apartment. His shoulders sagged forward in a stressful manner, left palm propping up his head as a black ballpoint pen dangled loosely from his fleshy pink lips. He often performed that habitual gnawing when unnerved or anxious about something; a rather unhealthy tendency, and he had been scolded for it ten-fold as a child by his beloved mother. His half-shut, violet irises gleamed amethyst in the dim glow of the desk light that hunched over a sizeable stack of papers, vivid personality lacking in their dull luster. The entirety of his head throbbed with an agonizing migraine as his eyes scanned over each of the requirements on a school form before him. "What else am I supposed to put on a résumé?" The paper was about halfway filled with unspoken truth about the young man, the remainder of the page blanker than the back of his exhausted mind. He let out a long, futile sigh and shoved the stack of unfinished papers forcefully back into the drawer of the desk. His lanky fingers rose to his face, maneuvering around the bottom of his thin-rimmed glasses to rub the weariness from his eyes before retreating to the bedside on the opposite end of the room. He removed his spectacles, setting them gently upon the quaint nightstand, and sank into the bedcovers, burying his face into the cushiony down pillow with relief. He lay on his stomach, hands resting tightly against the sides of his lean torso, staring ahead at the intimidating desk before altering positions and lying on his side, back turned towards the drawer that contained his school papers.

_Suppose I can always work on that tomorrow…_ he thought, eyelids clamping shut over his violet gaze. Many days had he suffered the unbearable agony of the average high school senior; applying for universities here and there, drowning from head to toe in the dreadful interrogations; in other words, those of the "tell-us-useless-info-about-yourself" variety. His fingers stung something dreadful, calloused from the various paper cuts and accidental wounds from misuse of the pencil sharpener. Insomnia had corrupted his fitful nights of sleep for nights, and, judging by his overloaded thoughts and mental inquiries, this particular night would differ in no way whatsoever. His eyes cracked open yet again, gaze averting to the open window, curtain flailing about in a gentle manner as a soft midnight breeze exhaled gently. The familiar, comforting glimmer of moonlight ceased to exist after dark that date, the set time for the new moon arriving without delay. The sky withheld a gloomy onyx, starless as well in the brightness of the nearby city. Folding his hands contently over his bare chest, Matthew swiped his dirty blonde hair from his face before whispering aloud, all but inaudible in his hushed tone.

"Dear mother in Heaven, how have things been lately for you? My life has been a drag since school started up again, and I find myself missing you even more." His expression fell, troubled. "O-Oh, don't worry, I can handle it just fine. It's not your fault or anything. It's just…" The elder teen sighed once more, muscles tensing. "If there is anything you can do for me, anything at all, please wish me the best. I don't know if I can keep up like this… I mean, I've tried my hardest to stabilize my grades, but college costs a lot of money. Something I don't have in abundance right now. I know I could always ask Father for money, but that would mean facing him again, which I would rather not do. I realize you must be busy up in Heaven, but, if you can, give me the opportunity to at least make it to college to start a career. I don't want to overwork you too much, though, so I'm going to say goodnight… Good bye, Mother."

His aching heart silenced him almost instantly. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he endured the third consecutive sleepless night.

********

"-like another cold one today under the Canadian sky with highs of a chilly 12 degrees below freezing. Although snow is not expected until later in the week, an advisory has been-"

"Another weather advisory?" Matthew muttered, shaking his head in dismay. Such was the life of a Canadian boy residing in northern Quebec. Had he been given the choice, he would not have allowed his young mother to buy a home in an area of such a hazardous climate as a child. He sat on the sofa, lips brushing the outer edge of his cocoa mug as he inhaled the steam deeply, allowing the warmth to relax his stiffening muscles.

"And in today's breaking news, the highly-anticipated international university, located in a secluded island off of the east coast of Australia, has reported a whopping six-hundred thousand applicants after their opening a week ago. More information regarding this university can be found on their website, at-"

The television flickered off, an eerie silence capturing the room in its menacing clutches. The Canadian teenager felt his irritation escalating as his thoughts centered on the distasteful mention of the university. He knew enough about it, all right. It was that dreaded college that had been making things so difficult for Matthew up until that moment, for it was his indispensible salary that had been handed over to the government through use of taxation to build the university in the first place. Many of the world's reigning powers had put forth effort and money to construct this legendary institution. The young man, though age had yet to ripen his wisdom, retained enough common sense to apply for other academies, while the other sixteen seniors at his meager high school had all but committed suicide in just attempting to send the god-forsaken application in. There were well over thirty million people residing in Canada, and the chance of any of them getting accepted was well beyond impossible. Don't misunderstand the situation; Matthew had applied for this unnamed university as well, earlier that week, but had done so mostly out of desperation. He had been giving his information to college after college, acceptance essential to continuing his life as a poor Canadian teen, living, secretly, by himself. His current occupation, a chef at a local restaurant, just didn't cut it when it came to bringing home the dough. College was his only chance left of preserving both his deceased mother's best wishes and his own.

He daintily sipped the murky cocoa in his hands, gaze drifting towards his cell phone, which lay atop the coffee table with the top flipped open. A brief, gentle smile graced his features, if only for a minute, as he glanced down at his wallpaper; the picture of his twin, Alfred, standing in front of the American capital building with a wide grin stealing his lips.

His relationship with his brother had been a most curious one. His mother had given birth to twins before her husband had severed ties with her. In a fearsome custody battle, it had been decided that Alfred, the older and larger of the twins, would reside with his father. Matthew had, thankfully, been saddled with his heartbroken mother, who retreated up to Canada with her only remaining son. Matthew had worn her maiden name, Williams, with a renewed sense of pride. Their father had adapted a harsh, cold demeanor, and in all honesty, Matthew despised the man with a burning passion. Many times he had mentioned to Alfred how envious he was of his brother, to have enough patience (or was it naivety?) to tolerate the rigid acts of their father. His brother had not spoken to him in person for three years.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a buffeting at the door. As he rose from his spot, he noticed the mail slot below the knob flip open to reveal a single envelope, addressed in a nostalgic smooth cursive. Matthew crouched down to pick up the letter with the utmost precaution, sinking his index finger under the flap of the envelope and ripping carefully along the crease. He pinched his fingers together over the folded piece of printer paper and dragged it out, violet eyes scanning over the words swiftly.

_Dear Matthew,_

_A little something to help you out with college. I took the liberty of converting it for you. And I know you; don't send this envelope back with the gift still tucked inside._

_Don't tell Father. He'll wring my neck._

_Sincerely,_

_Alfred_

Matthew groaned inwardly, shaking the upside-down envelope and watching about ten thousand-dollar bills, Canadian cash, plummet to the carpet beneath his feet. _That fool…_ Sure, his father had become a multi-millionaire, owning a huge business, but not once had he ever bothered to give his other son a second thought. Ever since Matthew's sixteenth birthday, Alfred had sent money via mail covertly. Regardless, he felt a smile tugging at his chapped lips and tucked the bills into his jeans pocket.

********

Days turned into weeks. Weeks morphed into months. And the time had come for Matthew Williams to decide to which university he entrusted his fate.

Four of the many applications he had received had arrived, accepting him. _I have done it, Mother,_ he thought as he walked home from school one day. _Now all I need is some extra cash and-_

"Matthew!" called a male voice from behind him, one recognized instantaneously as his fellow classmate, as well as the principal's personal assistant. "Hey, Matthew, wait up!"

The familiar face came to a screeching halt beside Matthew, hunching over and gasping for air in a trembling pant. The Williams boy raised a blonde eyebrow, concern washing over his face. "What's going on, Garth?"

"What's going on?" his friend repeated, an edgy tone caking his voice. "_What's going on?! _Matthew, why didn't you tell me? I thought we were closer than that!"

Matthew coughed into his fist, eyes shifting nervously. "What… what on earth are you talking about?"

To Garth's astonishment, he sounded genuinely confused. "What do you mean? You don't know?"

"Know _what_, Garth?" he persisted, growing irritably impatient.

The principal's assistant fished around in his overstuffed backpack, yanking out a crinkled wad of paper and unfolding it with care. "This is yours. You are _Matthew Williams_, correct?"

"Give me that," Matthew murmured, eyes narrowing distastefully at his fellow classmate as he stole a glance at the paper.

Stunned silence followed. Garth cleared his throat, tugging uncomfortably at his mahogany scarf. "M-Mathew? Is everything alrig-"

Matthew Williams was gone.

********

Matthew forcefully swung the door to his apartment closed with previously-undiscovered strength. There had to be a mistake, a flaw of some sort… this wretched piece of paper must have been a gag, right? Some sort of childish prank? Illogical gibberish stole possession of the young man's mind, his breaths coming forth in a heavy pant.

There wasn't even the slightest chance of it being a forgery… and it couldn't possibly be… _Argh!_ It all made his head throb and his unwelcome migraine return. It wasn't possible… It just wasn't possible…

The international institute couldn't have just accepted him… correct?

* * *

A/N: Kinda lame so far, my apologies. It'll get better, and there will be more plot, hopefully… I feel like I'm losing my touch. Bleugh.

**R&R. I want your feedback for this.** Normally, schools settings and OC's aren't my thing, so I would like to know how I'm doing. And, no, Garth is not an important character. He probably won't show up again.


	2. Départ

"_Matthew? Matthew, wake up, darling." Such a familiar voice, softly toned like his own, droned out the surrounding silence, settling his previously-discomforted head. The young man blinked once, twice, awakening from his spot on the chilled ground to a dank, abysmal black, enveloping his semi-transparent body in its stagnant blanket of shadows. His throat began to sting as a single teardrop hung for dear life against the corner of his eye, threatening to plunge to the nothingness upon which he stood. His mother's voice sounded once more, the dark veil beginning to clear. "Matthew, please wake up. You need to get dressed. You can't leave the house in your pajamas." The onyx clouds receded, revealing the image of his former self, a child of five meager years of age._

That's me…_ the older Matthew thought, hesitantly taking a single step forwards before thinking better of it and backing away. The younger version of himself did look vaguely familiar, though never had he realized how much he differed in appearance from those afflicted times. He hadn't had any use for glasses until the eighth grade, so the child's violet orbs sparkled as they opened slightly, slumberous eyes gazing up exhaustedly at his mother, who was preoccupied shuffling through his dresser drawers, yanking out almost every item within them and shoving them into a suitcase. Lil' Matthew let out a stifled yawn, reaching up a hand to swat at his hanging blonde hair, disheveled and unkempt from his ever-fitful dreaming._

"_Mama? Where are we going?" he piped up, smiling an innocent, angelic smile. "Are we going on another vacation? I wanna help pack! Please, ma-"_

"_No, Matthew," she interrupted sternly, placing a pair of ash-gray sweatpants and a crimson crochet sweater upon the foot of his bed. "Can you get yourself changed for me? It would help mommy very much."_

"_O-Okay…" he whispered hesitantly, confused but drowning in the carefree ways of a child. He pulled his pajama top over his shoulders, handing them over to his paranoid mother. "Where are we going?" he asked again, blinking in confusion as he took notice of the clock._

_4:34 a.m._

"_Shh, shh…" she muttered, all but inaudible as she clamped the suitcase shut. "Mustn't wake Papa or Alfred. We're…" Her throat tightened, a few tears gracing her cheeks as she clutched her son to her body protectively. "We're going away for a while. It'll be cold, and it may be lonely, but I want you to promise me something… Promise me that you won't leave me, whatev-" Her voice caught, a shaky sob racking her slender shoulders. "Whatever happens… don't leave me, Matthew. Don't leave."_

_Matthew, being a child of five, just stared up at his bawling mother in concern; adults weren't supposed to cry, right? They were stronger than that… right? He nodded slowly, wrapping his arms tightly against his mother's weeping form. Naively, he glanced up at her and smiled a vivid smile. "I won't leave you, mommy. I'm a good kid. Why would I ever leave? I love you."_

_She couldn't help but smile sadly in return, amused by his oblivious nature, and ruffled his blonde locks gently. "Thank you. Now, come on Mattie. Let's go before we wake them up."_

"_Hmm? They're not coming?"_

_The young woman's striking blue eyes faltered, avoiding her son's gaze at all costs. "No. Where we're going… they aren't allowed to come."_

"_Oh…" Disappointment coated the boy's quiet voice as he grabbed his suitcase and headed for the front door, drowsiness impairing his pace a bit._

"_Mommy! Mattie!" came a cheery call from the hallway. Matthew waved his hand, not so much as peering over his shoulder as his mother ushered him out the door. The young woman looked back at her other son, who was standing in the doorway of his bedroom with an innocent grin on his face. A stuffed bear dangled from his left hand by its paw, and his pajamas hung awkwardly off one of his shoulders._

"_Goodbye, Alffie." His mother sniffled once, wiping her dulling eyes before shutting the door behind her._

_Alfred stood there, a perplexed expression worn like a mask over his normally gleeful demeanor, and his teddy bear fell to the floor. His smile dissipated._

_The elder Matthew felt his heart ache something horrible, reaching out a filmy hand to comfort his brother, whose eyes began to well up with longing tears. But the young child felt no presence, nor the hand that rested briefly on his shoulder as he sagged his shoulders and retreated back into the bedroom._

********

Matthew's eyes jerked open, his lanky body sore and cramped up as he awoke on the carpet beside his bed. An inward groan escaped his mind, rubbing his sore head from a spot where it had come in contact with the nightstand. That marked the fourth time in the past month that the Canadian boy had awoken on the floor, having rolled out of bed overnight. It was nothing short of peevish. Upon sitting in an upright position, he fingered around for his spectacles, placing them loosely on the edge of his nose. _What day is it…? I feel like I'm forgetting something important…_

A lingering yawn drifted from behind his lips, eyes fluttering open as he adjusted his vision to the naturally-lit bedroom. His gaze averted to the wall beside his dresser, scanning the multiple squares of the calendar until coming across the current day. _Let's see… It's Wednesday, the twenty-second of August… Oh, crap!_ He smacked himself in the head, bounding from his spot on the floor and rushing into the bathroom, grabbing a change of clothes and dressing at light-speed. An emerald green toothbrush dangled from his lips, a failed attempt to simultaneously brush his teeth and hair.

_I'm gonna be late! Gotta hurry…_ He staggered from the bathroom, grabbing two suitcases from the corner of the bedroom while struggling to slip on a pair of boots. Accursed alarm, not going off on time! Two plane tickets were shoved desperately into his coat pocket as he clambered out the front door, glasses crooked in all of his frantic panic.

Assuming he was truly the one chosen to go, regardless of the other thousands of Canadians whom must have applied.

He was to tackle the miniature jet native to his town on a grueling flight to Washington, D.C. From the capital city of America, he would hop on another airplane to the Hawaiian city of Kapaa, from which he would fly to the secluded island in which his new home would be for the next years of his life.

But, alas, in his frenzied departure, he had neglected to bring along his cell phone, beeping consistently as a sizeable quantity of text messages entered its inner core.

********

"Washington D.C.," Matthew breathed, legs trembling as he stepped off of the landing platform and into the massive airport. "No wonder Alfred likes it here. Everything in America is bigger, just like his ego." He smiled to himself, a slight chuckle escaping his lips as he picked up his belongings from the moving rubber platform before him. _Wonder what I should do while I wait. I don't really need to get on the plane for another hour and a half…_ His stomach gave a prompt complaint, grumbling and gnashing at his gut. Perhaps a bite to eat? He shoved his gloved hands into his pockets, feeling around for his wallet. _Now where did I put the blasted thing? Ah, there it is! Now, let's see…_ His purple gaze examined each restaurant around him, mouth watering as the intoxicating scent of foreign cuisine wafted into his nostrils. He pried his wallet apart, fishing around desperately for some amount of cash. The thousand-dollar bills given to him from his brother fluttered out and into his hands, though no more remained inside the wallet. _Wonder if there's any way I can convert this…?_

He wandered aimlessly, eyes wide in amazement at both the obscure travelers and the bizarre food joints that beckoned him over with their tempting scents and enthralling meals that only aroused his hunger further. _Oh, come on, it's _America_. There should be a place around here to convert my cash, with how many tourists come to the states to visit… Maybe they will take my money? I'm sure they get plenty of Canadians around these parts… Perhaps I should ask someone?_

He drifted on over to the nearest shop, a combination fast food restaurant and gift shop. "Excuse me, miss…" he said softly, approaching the counter. "Do you think you could give me anything with foreign money? Or maybe you could show me where I may convert my cash?"

"Would you like some fries?" she asked, smacking her bubble gum with a bored expression on her face. She wore a strange perfume, too much of it, at that, that caused a tingly sensation within Matthew's nostrils, arousing a sneeze from his slight figure.

"I don't want any until you can tell me where I may get some money."

"May I offer you our daily special? I can give you a deluxe cheeseburger with a side salad for just five dollars!"

Matthew rolled his eyes, clutching his head in slight frustration. "Please, miss, I just want to know where-"

"Oh my God…" whispered a dumbfounded voice from behind him. The Canadian spun around, face flustered from the grueling act of failed communications with the fast food cashier, and gasped in alarm as a pair of strong arms came up and squeezed him tightly, lifting him gently into the air.

"Matthew, is that really you?" exclaimed the hugging buffoon, holding Matthew at arm's length, grasping the baffled Canadian's bony shoulders. "My God, you've changed over the years…"

"A-Alfred? Is it…?" Matthew's mouth hung open, as if in attempt to catch gnats, and his eyes grew to the size of melons. "Alfred!" He embraced his brother again, laughing in pure astonishment. "What… what on Earth are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Heh, you've gotten a little taller. You may catch up to me yet," he punched his brother playfully on the shoulder, which stood a good few inches shorter than his own.

"I stopped growing ages ago. I think you've had one too many burgers, you're beginning to hallucinate." Matthew's face lit up, eyes shining with nostalgia. "Speaking of which… I don't mean to be a bother, and I hate asking it of you, but, could you…?"

"O-Oh, right. Sorry." Alfred rubbed the back of his head, snickering in embarrassment. He turned to the lady at the cashier, who had all but fallen asleep in the course of a few minutes. "May I have two of the daily specials?"

"Sure thing. Ten fifty-two." The American twin handed her a pile of one-dollar bills, wincing as her long crimson fingernails scraped against the tender flesh of his palm upon giving her the cash. He bent over, whispering to his brother, "The minute we get our food, run like the wind. She means business."

"Right… Just like old times, eh?"

"Right." Alfred grinned, eyes aglow in a fashion that bore a striking resemblance to those of his mother. The cashier returned with a single paper bag, sagging under the pressure of the two burgers tucked snuggly inside. "Thank you, miss."

"No problem. Come back soon, ne?" she said, waggling her eyebrows at the American twin suggestively with the gleam of a cobra sparkling in her hazel eyes.

"S-Sure thing…" Alfred stuttered, handing a hefty cheeseburger to his brother. "Here you go, Matthew. Let's find a place to sit… perhaps outside of my waiting section?"

"Alfred… you didn't supersize these, did you? The thing is humongous. I'm not sure if I can eat it all…"

"Oh, it won't go to waste. I could eat these puppies all day. Come on." He tugged on Matthew's coat sleeve, beckoning him over to the aisle as they proceeded to stroll towards the section on which Alfred would depart. Alfred had changed in the course of three years; his hair was slightly shorter, and he had clearly gained some muscle definition. However, some things really never _did _change; he was still the same arrogant, innutritious fool that Matthew knew and loved. "Ah, here we are. A21."

Matthew's breath hitched, his face twisting into a perplexed stare as his eyes fixed on his brother in disbelief.

"Hm? What's wrong, Mattie?"

"You're leaving… on _this_ plane?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"Going to Kapaa?"

"Yep."

"And then…" Matthew gulped. "And then to that infamous college on the island near Australia?"

Alfred said nothing, chewing thoughtfully on his hamburger. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he spoke up. "Judging by your reaction, I'm gonna say that you're on that flight too… right?"

"Mm-hmm."

********

The time had arrived, at last, for the plane to take off. Alfred and Matthew walked in silence aboard the plane, both still too astounded by the coincidence of the matter at hand to speak a single word. They took their seats, Matthew's assigned seat in the front of the plane, and Alfred's a certain number of rows back. The plane ride was exhausting and just short of unbearable, for both of them. Matthew found himself staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts. In effort to keep the spirits of his twin lit, he had neglected to mention the insignificant fact that their father had probably either bribed or threatened (or some sick combination of the two) the professors at the university into accepting Alfred as the American for their student body. Though he was technically the younger of the twins (by about four minutes), the Canadian had always felt compelled to protect his brother from any misfortune regarding their father, as did his twin for himself. After all, Alfred had spent the majority of his life with the bastard, and Matthew assumed that his brother didn't relish a single moment spent with the older man. The last thing he wanted to do was mention their father upon their leaving it all behind.

_Dear Mother,_ he thought, violet optics jeering towards the bluing sky. _I met up with Alfred again. He doesn't seem to have changed much, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he misses you. I mean, the last time we had spoken was at your funeral, and he had left without another word, in tears. I've seen him gaze up at the heavens above many times in the past few hours, and I can't help but wonder if he's been speaking to you as well, all of these years, awaiting a response of some sort just as I have. I never did get the chance to thank you for listening to my complaints. You'd probably tell me to stop whining, and then smile and ruffle my hair… You would scold me for taking advantage of what I have been given, and sit with me under the stars to explain how things up in the cosmos work, and how they will improve the way things are, even if things are looking blue. I only regret that we could not have done that more often… or that Alfred was never given the opportunity to do that with us. Maybe someday we'll meet again, and we can all gaze at the stars together. I would like that, and I'm sure he would as well. I can-_

"Hey, Mattie! Earth to Matthew, come in!" The obnoxious voice of Alfred F. Jones oh-so-rudely interrupted his prayers, shaking his brother's shoulders vigorously. "The plane is on the ground. It's time to get off!"

Matthew shot an annoyed look in Alfred's direction, but soon regained his gentle composure and smiled. "Of course. Time to board the next one soon, I suppose." He followed at his brother's heels as they trotted down the walkway and into the Hawaiian airport. He gave a final glance towards the sky, eyelids squinting at the sudden glow of the warm tropical sun.

_Time to begin my new life. I hope you can still hear me, even if I have left your grave behind in Canada. Farewell for now, Mother. Goodbye._

"Matthew, stop daydreaming and hurry up! We're not going to be able to get to our belongings if the crowd gets too large," Alfred called, waving his arm in a peppy stupor, face aglow with joy. Matthew smiled gently, shaking his head and walking casually behind his twin.

_And so begins the start of a new life._

* * *

A/N: Yep, an appearance from Alfred. The others will pop up eventually. I'm currently unsure of how often I will update this fiction, with my other Hetalia story going on right now as well, so keep the reviews comin' to keep me ensured that you actually care. ^^

**R&R**


	3. Tōchaku

A/N: A few important notes:

First of all, I forgot to mention about the "thousand dollar bills". Let's just say that, for the purposes of this story (and my laziness), they do exist. I mean, who wants to count out that many $100 bills?

Second, I do update often, usually ranging from every day to every three days. I simply have nothing better to do (usually). I can try to spread them out a bit more if you can't keep up.

Enjoy!

* * *

Matthew Williams leaned back into the comforting cushion of the plane seat, releasing a moan of contention as his muscles relaxed and his eyes shut. Alfred sat beside him, as there were, strangely, no specified seats in which they were to sit in. The Canadian's brother sipped absentmindedly on a cola, fiddling with the yellow-striped bendy straw with his tongue. "Alfred, please. We're in public… It's rude."

"Hrm?" The American-raised boy withdrew his tongue immediately, fearful of the wrath of his twin. Though quiet and sensitive on the exterior, Matthew could withhold a debate better than any other being he knew, and had once put Alfred in tears, back when they were eight. "Sorry." He stretched his arms above his head, mouth agape in a wide yawn. "Wake me when we land, Mattie."

"Of course."

Alfred smiled gently, settling into his seat and clamping his azure eyes shut. Allowing the back of the seat to cradle his head, the older twin exhaled in a peaceful bliss and pulled up slightly on the lever that controlled the incline of the chair. That single, soft yank on the lever sent the chair escalating back, and Alfred soon found himself lying perpendicular to the floor of the plane.

"Ow! Put your seat up, bloody prat!" snapped an irked voice from behind. Matthew whirled around to see another blonde behind them, a male, with his arms crossed over his emerald sweater vest and a murderous scowl planted on his face. His eyes glowered, a striking green, veiled beneath unusually thick eyebrows. Though shorter than the twins, he appeared a few years older than themselves. The man emitted an aura of irritation, one which struck Matthew as threatening and to be avoided at all costs.

Alfred's eyes popped open, dragging his seat upright with a jerk. "Sorry, man. It was an accident." Without bothering to even turn around, the American nestled back into his seat and reclosed his eyes.

"Some things never change…" Matthew muttered, shaking his head as Alfred began a rhythmic snore. He returned his attention to the man behind him, a welcome smile gracing his features. "Hello. I am Matthew Williams, the one from Canada…?"

"Hm. Nice to meet you," the man responded nonchalantly, though his expression faltered into a contented face. "My name is Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland. I am an Englishman, as you can plainly tell. And… who is your_ pleasant_ friend?" he added in his heavy accent, spitting "pleasant" as if it were a curse.

"Oh, this is my brother, Alfred. He's the chosen American. Your name sounds vaguely familiar." He examined Arthur further, violet eyes scanning over the Briton with blatant curiosity. "What academy did you attend? Does your family own a large company?"

Arthur's gaze shifted to the left, it only for a split-second, and then returned with the utmost confidence. "Well, I attended Oxford College before this, and my parents are the founders of a major tea-distribution business in London. I have two brothers and one half brother, all of which shall work under me upon my inheritance of the company. The main reasoning behind my applying to the Institute was to further sharpen my knowledge about foreign cultures and languages. Such wisdom is essential to the-"

"Tell what's-his-face to keep his trap shut. I'm tryin' to sleep," Alfred piped up form beside Matthew, eyes still shut tight.

Arthur's teeth gritted together, his fingers clasping into fists. "How typical of an American. No respect for themselves, nor any for the people around them."

"Hey, now, wait a minute." Alfred sat upright again, at last turning to face the stuck-up Brit. "_No one_ insults my country, especially some snobby English guy with a stick up his rear end." A sudden smirk lit up the American's face. "Hey, Mattie's right. You do look familiar… At least, the eyebrows do…"

"Why must everyone point out my eyebrows? They aren't all that large…"

"But… but they're colossal! It looks like some caterpillars crawled onto your head while you were sleeping and died there."

"You have a cowlick. Your hair is untidy, unkempt, and sticking up from the friction of your fume-infused bomber jacket."

"Your accent is British."

"And what's wrong with that?! Americans have all but butchered our native language with their accentuated "r's"."

"You ruined our language the moment it was invented."

"… That doesn't even make logical sense."

Matthew groaned inwardly, slumping down into his seat… or at least attempting to, what with the restraining seatbelt and the food tray that held his lemon-lime soda from plummeting to the ground. The two continued on like that, bickering as if they were an old married couple. One detail kept playing around with his mind; were they too similar or too different to get along? His eyes darted to the man in front of him, a dark-haired fellow with his seat slightly tilted back and his arms tucked behind his head. _How can he sleep through all of this ruckus?_ He felt the stares of men and women as they bore into his back, glaring daggers with the intent to stab and slaughter. He raised his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes as the two quarreling men around him went on about their national cuisine.

_This is going to be a long plane ride…_

********

Matthew groggily stepped off of the platform and into the airport, marveling at and regretting how long those two could hold up a heated debate.

"Your kind weighs more than the entirety of the world."

"Brits can't cook worth nothing."

"Americans can't see the supernatural!"

That shut Alfred up for a moment. A rather brief moment, but a moment spent in blissful silence. "Britons can't see aliens."

Matthew rolled his eyes, massaging his throbbing temples. "I'm going to go get our things, Alfred. Don't get yourself arrested for verbal harassment in that amount of time." He turned tail in a full retreat, placing his forehead neatly into his palm upon the echoing ignorance of their bickering. Taking advantage of the rare opportunity, he gazed around, astonished by the outlay of the airport. Along the white walls hung a flag from each country, with one between each window. The ceiling stretched high above the floor, much taller than any Canadian building Matthew had witnessed upon growing up in such a small town, with the roof composed entirely of what he assumed to be bulletproof glass, the sun shining down upon the airport with its blaring summer rays. The glass must have been considerably thick as well, though, as it wasn't unbearably hot indoors. All in all, the building was rather barren and almost completely deserted, just as the plane had been. The only people in sight remained Alfred, Arthur, the sleepy dark-haired man from before, and a couple. _The rest must've arrived already. That, or they know something we don't. _His eyes lingered for a moment, coming to rest upon a sign beside the baggage conveyer belt. It read,

_All accepted applicants are to collect their belongings and head out the sliding doors in the back of the building. A shuttle will come for you, at which time you will be driven to campus grounds and interviewed promptly._

_That's odd…_ Of course, this particular college was anything but normal by most peoples' standards. While tens of thousands of young adults had sent in applications, nowhere could you find a heap of information. The mysterious wonder of the new international Institute (nameless at the time) struck out beyond all other propaganda, catching the attention of the media and all under its hypnotic glare. He reread the sign carefully, assuring himself that he read the fine print and all of the information accurately. Oh, great, an interview… There was only one class in high school that Matthew Williams had ever failed in his life.

And that dreadful class was his _beloved_ Speech seminar. _I'm not going to be able to survive… they'll surely send me back to Canada once the interview has begun. Maybe I can get Alfred to go first and fill me in on what I need to say to make them happy…_ Not that it would matter. The quiet boy had trouble speaking to his own family, let alone a complete stranger. Better return Alfred's bags to him. And maybe Arthur's, too… He browsed the few scattered bags that drifted slowly along the conveyer belt, coming across two beige suitcases with labels sticking up from the handles that read,

_A. Kirkland_

_Chipping Campden, England, UK_

_2002_

_Chipping Campden? Perhaps he lived there until his family became successful… It's clearly not up to date…_ Matthew pondered over such thoughts for a moment, shaking the nosy thought from his head and dragging the many suitcases behind him, barely able to yank them along with his lanky arms. _Where's Alfred when you need 'im?_

"Would you like some help with those?" spoke a kind voice from behind him. Matthew's eyes peeked open to find himself gazing down at a short Asian man, clad in a white suit and a white pair of dress pants. His hair, a flowing crow-black, hung loosely in his face, shielding one of his mocha-brown eyes from the Canadian's view. Without the nagging hindrance of awaiting a reply, the short man slung a suitcase of Alfred's over his shoulder, clutching the other one in his opposite hand. "Watashi no namae wa-" His soft voice trailed off, head slightly cocked to the side at Matthew's bewildered expression. "Maybe… Do you speak English?" he questioned slowly, a slight accent hitching a ride on his voice.

Matthew nodded, proceeding to make his way back to his brother. "M-My name is Matthew Williams. I was the one chosen for Canada. I assume you are from Japan?"

The man smiled gently. "Yes. I am Honda Kiku. Or, I suppose… _Kiku Honda_, in your language. Might I ask where you are going, Matthew-san?"

Matthew rounded the corner with the new acquaintance right on his heels. At long last, his twin appeared in the distance, sitting in a chair with another cola in his right hand. Alfred grinned from ear to ear upon sighting the two, beckoning them over with a flamboyant wave and a shout. "Hey, Mattie! Hurry up, or the shuttle'll leave without us!"

The Canadian boy sighed, smiling in embarrassment. Typical Alfred. "Coming, coming, but you didn't need to shout. This is Kiku Honda, the Japanese applicant. Kiku, this is my brother, Alfred Jones."

"Pleasure, Kiku!" Alfred remarked, shaking the boy's hand rather roughly. "Come on, you two! Arthur's already on board and it won't wait for anybody."

Matthew nodded, following his twin and Kiku outside and onto the sleek form of the shuttle. The tropical sun shocked Matthew to no end; for that time of the summer, it should have been blazing down upon them. _Oh, wait, we're below the equator now. It's not summer yet… Or has summer come already…?_ The Canadian took his seat between Alfred and Arthur, assuring himself that they were separated for the time being, and Kiku sat on the opposite side of the shuttle, parallel from them.

"Alright, listen up and listen good!" spoke a deep, hoarse voice from the front of the moving vehicle. A broad-shouldered, towering man stood near the four, the only ones aboard the shuttle at that time, and fingered through a tightly-packed bundle of papers. You are to arrive at the Institute in fifteen minutes' time. At which time you are to report to the main office at the entrance of the main building and go through with your interview. You will not have to say much, but a lot will be asked of you in this time. If anyone here would like to get it over with, they may be used as a demonstration."

"I'll do it," Arthur said confidently, sneering in Alfred's direction. "How hard can an interview be if you don't have to speak often?"

"Which one are you?" the man asked gruffly, puffing a cigar.

"Arthur Kirkland, the United Kingdom."

"Ah, here we are." The man placed one of the papers upon the top of the stack. He puffed once more before reading it aloud.

"_Arthur Kirkland, male, twenty-three years of age. Blonde hair, green eyes, thick eyebrows_. This sounds like you." He continued. "Says here, _resides in Chipping Campden, England. Occupation: Works at his family's local tea shop with his three brothers._" Arthur's face faltered, his eyes widening in pure terror. He shot Matthew and Alfred apologetic glances, nails digging into his palms as he resisted the urge to punch this infuriating man. "Do you deny, Arthur Kirkland?"

"N…No…"

The man took no notice and continued, puffing once more before reading on. "Here we go,_ interesting facts:_ _Lives in the storage room of the small shop, sharing a room with his youngest brother, Peter Kirkland. Never attended college due to lack of finances. Was constantly teased as a child and preteen for his beliefs in mythical creatures. Because of this, he was accused of having schizophrenia in high school and beaten many times._ Mythical creatures, huh?" The man released a cruel laugh as Arthur winced in humiliation, emerald gaze falling to the ground. "Do you deny?"

"No."

"Based off of these facts, I would recommend taking great precautions upon entering your dorm room. Yes, even here at the Institute, there are dorms. Your roommate has a very… unique personality. The best of luck to you. You are finished with your interview."

Arthur's shoulders slumped as he staggered over to the back of the shuttle, avoiding eye contact with anyone aboard. He plopped down in the corner, head in his hands in undeniable humiliation. Matthew's eyes widened ever-so-slightly, disappointed by the Brit's lack of truth. Arthur struck the Canadian as the type of person whose pride would get the better of him, as it had done just seconds previous. Alfred took one last glance in the Englishman's direction and shook his head, mildly crestfallen.

"Alrigh', everyone. This is your stop. Don't forget all of yer luggage." The man at the front of the shuttle pressed a meaty finger to a scarlet button aside the doors and opened them, cigar dangling loosely from his thin lips. "Good luck."

The applicants rose from their spots, snatching their luggage from beneath their seats and approaching the door. Matthew followed behind his brother and Kiku, but paused for a moment in the doorway as he turned to look at a rather glum Briton, who careened sluggishly towards the front of the shuttle, the smug grin on his face long-since dissipated. Matthew's eyes saddened, his gloved hand reaching out to place a firm hand on the young man's shoulder. "Arthur?"

"I… I'm sorry, Matthew," he said hurriedly, emerald eyes meeting the Canadian's orbs of violet. "I know it was wrong of me, but-"

"It's fine, really." Matthew smiled sincerely. "I'm sure you had your reasons. I mean, most of the people coming to this school are likely to either be rich or of nobility. It would have hurt your pride to do otherwise. Hey, wait, I remember now. You were that kid, back when Alfred and I were nine years old and visited England for our yearly vacation. If I remember right, didn't you…?"

"Yeah," Arthur's smirk returned. "I'm the one who stole your brother's ice cream cone, and the one who pranked him out the whazoo."

The two exchanged laughter and strolled out the shuttle, chit-chatting all the while.

* * *

A/N: Alas, it seems that I have come down with some sort of virus. I've been having different symptoms since yesterday, so I'm stuck at home with nothing better to do but write. I'll probably end up writing more chapters of this and APFAP and releasing one per day, so you can look forward to that, I suppose.

**R&R.** It may make me feel better. ;3


	4. Atychia

"_Matthew, come look at this!" spoke his mother's soft voice, beckoning her son over to the pond by which she stood. A gentle breeze began to pick up, buffeting his mother's caramel-colored hair to flow behind her lithe form. A tranquil Canadian snowfall, the first the young child had ever experienced, wafted down from the graying sky above, tickling his face with teasing crystalline flakes._

_Matthew gave a small smile, circling a rock jutting out from the ground as he paraded about in the chilling snow. "Coming, Mommy!" the five-year-old called, arms spread out as if flying as he galloped over to his mother, who returned the smile with a hand outstretched. He approached the pond, gazing into its depths, and stuck a hand out to touch it, amazement evident in his violet eyes. "Mommy, it's co-o-o-old!"_

"_Of course; it's ice!" she remarked, laughing as Matthew prodded the frozen water with a stubby finger._

"_Ice…? We never got _Canadian_ ice back in America." The child's face brightened suddenly. "I know! Let's send some ice to Alfred and Daddy! Won't that make them happy?"_

_His mother said nothing, grin dissolving from her face abruptly. "M…Mattie…" She doubled over, oceanic eyes shutting tight as a stifled sob racked her frail shoulders. "I know you're too young to understand… but-" A heated tear plummeted down from her frozen cheek. "But… you probably aren't going to be able to see your brother or father very often."_

_The boy's head tilted to the side in confusion at his mother's sudden state. "Why not?"_

"_Because…" Her voice trailed off. A strained smile graced her features, if for only a brief moment. "Don't worry about it, Matthew. I'm sure you'll see your brother again, someday. Maybe we can all go on a vacation together or something. How's that sound to you?"_

_Matthew just grinned wider, stretching from ear to ear. "Okay!"_

_But, of course, it had all been an innocent little lie._

********

"My God… What brilliant architecture…" A certain British boy commented, gawking up at the main building of the university. It was nothing short of spectacular, beyond what any of the students had ever witnessed, with towering heights and a rather regal guise. Composed of mostly the same thick glass found in the airport, its outlay was much grander than any of them had expected. A large fountain made its home in front of the main doors, spurting water and gushing sea foam every which way. "Is that fountain full of ocean water? Extraordinary..."

"I think so…" Matthew replied, gazing in awe at the peculiar building. "Well, I suppose we should find out where to go for the interviews."

"I'm not so sure about this institute anymore. It's just…" He turned to look Matthew in the eyes, voice lowering. "Don't you find it a bit odd how they knew all of that information about me? I've never mentioned anything about my family, and no one was ever told about my personal life… I think there's more to this college than they're letting on, is all. Be cautious around here. I will wait outside."

Matthew nodded slowly, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses back up his nose. So little was known about this mysteriously anonymous academy… why, it didn't even have a name or even a mascot yet! Perhaps getting accepted wouldn't turn out to be such a miraculous thing after all… _Wait, what humiliating information do they have on me, then? _He shuddered at the thought.

The group approached the doors of an office, presumably belonging to one of the assistant principals, and took a seat in the onyx-black sofa beside the entrance. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into five-minute intervals. Indeed, it appeared as though impatience was bliss; Alfred was absentmindedly twiddling his thumbs, and Kiku was busy preoccupying himself with a handheld video game of some sort. Matthew sighed, limbs trembling in anxiety as the discomforting silence.

The locked doors of the main office room swung open with such unexpected force that the group of applicants couldn't help but flinched in surprise. A young man can bolting out from behind the doors, dark hair tied back in a limp ponytail, a look of sheer horrification plastered on his face. He gave the group a warning glance before fleeing down the hallway and out into the parking lot. "Next!" declared a voice from behind the now-ajar doorway.

"Alright… who wants to go first?" Matthew questioned, fidgeting.

A brief all-too-familiar silence struck the room. "I-I'll do it!" Alfred rose from his spot on the couch, punching a fist into the air. "Heroes need to stand up and fight, even if it's at the dispense of their own pride. Wish me luck!" With a stupid grin slapped onto his face, the American boldly (or foolishly) stormed into the room, confident and cocky and oblivious to the world.

"Wonder how long he will last…" Kiku muttered, staring down at his slender hands, tucked daintily in his lap.

"Hmph. Yeah, he doesn't seem like the type to tolerate that sort of rubbish. Undoubtedly, he will return either in tears or too shocked to speak." Arthur sighed, allowing his emerald gaze to waft around the nearly-vacant room.

Matthew's muscles tensed. "No, you're both wrong. He may not look it, but my brother has been through more than you could ever imagine. I honestly think he's had a harder life than I have."

"Hey, Matthew-san. You can hear their conversation through the door if you put your ear up to it," Kiku remarked, head pressed to the wooden doorframe. Matthew, though hesitantly at first, crawled over beside the Japanese boy and listened in as well, soon followed by Arthur.

"Alfred Jones, am I correct?" spoke an older man's muffled voice.

"Yep!"

"Let's see… _Male, nineteen years old, blonde hair, blue eyes, glasses_. This sounds like you. _Resides in Manchester, New Hampshire, USA. Occupation: Works under family-founded business. Other facts: Belongs to a multi-millionaire family. Has a twin brother… _Hmm… It says here that you want to become a hero. Care to elaborate?"

"Um… yes, sir. I guess… I guess I want to become a hero for many reasons. Nothing has ever horrified me more than the unnecessary acts of cruelty that take place around me. And I know what it's like, from personal experience…" His voice trailed off. Though he couldn't see his beloved twin, Matthew swore that he felt his heart skip a beat. It always unsettled him greatly, the rare occasions in which Alfred acted mature. His brother's tone grew mellower as he spoke once more. "And… I want to become a hero so that people can be inspired. So that, even though things may look rough, they can see someone like me and feel at least a little hopeful. I know that Mattie and I would have adored someone like that in our lives."

There was a pause. "I see," the older man spoke. "Very well, then. Here's the key to your room. You will have a roommate, so be prepared for that. Send in the next applicant, please."

"Yes, sir." The group at the door staggered backward and into their original positions on the sofa as the door creaked open. "Eh, it wasn't that bad. Of course, mine wasn't read aloud to everyone…" Alfred's gaze directed towards the Briton, who had begun a violent coughing fit into his fist to distract the American from the sudden flinch everyone gave at the mentioning of no one hearing his interview.

"Well, um, I guess… I'll go next?" Matthew allowed a gulp slide down his abruptly drying throat, wetting his lips with his tongue before clearing his throat and shutting the door behind him. The old man from before leaned against the back of his desk chair, a flimsy sheet of paper waving around in the air as his arm flailed every which way. "E-Excuse me…?"

"Hmm? Oh, you're in here already!" The man sat upright instantaneously, straightening his suit out before glancing down at the paper in his left hand. "Matthew Williams, right? _Male, nineteen years old, blonde-ginger hair_… Hmm? What's this? It cuts off… An incomplete...?" The man's eyes widened in surprise, rereading the paper before setting it down on the desk. "How peculiar… Regardless, I will have to give you a key anyway. Here you are, and your schedule should be given to you tomorrow."

"Thank you…" Matthew whispered, snatching the key and rushing out the door. _Why don't they have any information on me? It's incredibly strange… I would've expected them to be a bit more organized than that. I mean, this is such a prestigious school, supposedly… Ah well._

"How'd it go?" Alfred asked upon his twin's exit. "You look a little pale. Need some fast food? I can go get you some if you want…"

"No, I'm fine. I just… didn't expect it to go like that, that's all. Don't worry so much." The Canadian nudged his brother playfully in the arm, turning to Kiku. "Your turn."

Time passed after the departure of the Japanese applicant. "Kiku Honda…" came the man's voice form inside. "_Male, no specified age…? Why is that? Anyway, black hair, brown eyes, short. Resides in Kyoto, Japan… Occupation: Unemployed. _According to these facts, you've lived an incredibly dull, normal life. This is you, correct?"

"Iesu sā," he answered, bowing slightly as the man handed him a key. The Japanese man couldn't help but wonder, however, why it was that he hadn't any humiliating facts about him. Was his life _really_ that commonplace?

********

"I wonder who I'll be saddled with…" Alfred pondered, tapping his key against his chin as his sapphire eyes averted to the ceiling in thought as they strolled down the tidy hallway. "What if I'm stuck with some strange guy from an obscure country?"

"What's wrong with that?" Arthur questioned, halting as they came upon his assigned room. "Does it really matter? What does it matter, if they're Russian or Vietnamese? Polish or Danish? It's completely irrelevant…" The Englishman shoved the key into the doorknob, twisting the brass handle hastily. "It's not like it matters to _me_ whom I am-"

"Ahh~ ! You must be my new roommate, _mon cheri_?" A thickly-accented voice erupted from the opposite end of the room, overly sweet and coated with a flirtatious sort of tone. Arthur peered around the obstructing door to find his roommate, an older man standing beside the windowsill, crimson rose nestled delicately in his hands. His hair was a long, shaggy blonde, his eyes a baby blue. Judging by the heavily-influential accent and the pompous speech pattern, the man was presumably from France.

And he just happened to be stark naked.

Arthur said nothing, voice caught in his throat as his thick eyebrow gave an involuntary twitch. His eyes grew wide, and at last he gave a startled yell and stumbled backwards out of the room, throwing the door shut behind him. His heart pounding rapidly in his chest, he stole a glance down the hallway as the others headed out to find their rooms. "H-Hey, wait up! Don't leave me with the streaking buffoon!"

Alfred smirked, gazing over his shoulder. "I thought it didn't matter who you were stuck with?"

Matthew ceased his walking pace, slowing to a stop as he came across his room. "Well, _here it is,_" he and Kiku said in unison, both increasingly shocked by the turn of events. Matthew smiled genuinely. "Seems like we're going to be roommates, huh? That's a relieving coincidence…"

Kiku nodded, unlocking the door and heading inside. Matthew turned to face his twin, exchanging one last, meaningful glance with each other before he proceeded into his dormitory. Alfred rubbed the back of his head, afflicted by the silence and chuckled once, spun around, and headed for his own room. Arthur groaned inwardly, placing his forehead into his palm as he sulked back to his own dorm, prepared for the worst.

Matthew, upon entering the room, shook his heavy winter coat off of his narrow shoulders, shrugging it to the floor and bending over to pick it up. He hung it loosely from the coat rack in the corner of the room and approached Kiku. "So… Which bed do you want?"

"It does not matter to me, Matthew-san." Kiku trotted on over to the bed nearest the door. "You can have the one by the window."

"That's the one I wanted, anyway. Thanks." The Canadian smiled and lugged his overflowing beige suitcase onto the mattress, flipping up the locks and swinging it open gracefully. "Sorry if I'm a bother. I can get a little restless at night. My dreams are usually fitful…" His eyes dulled ever-so-slightly, his fingers grasping the suitcase's edge firmly. "So, should we make a compromise of some sort? Would you prefer to do the cooking or the cleaning? I can make breakfast, but I'm not so good with the oven… or the stove…"

Kiku gave a contented "hmm", removing his own things from his suitcase. "I can cook, if that is what you want. As long as you do not mind foreign cuisine."

Matthew's voice cracked as he voiced a miniscule laugh. "Hey, it's fine with me. No one in my family could cook. Alfred is probably the best cook, but he sticks to fast food most of the time. I can't make anything but breakfast… My mother… well, she was probably the worst cook of all of us. She burnt nearly everything she stuck in the oven. But, hey, it made birthday cakes interesting. I never knew my father that well, but he has never struck me as the type to sit down to a family meal." His tone sharpened, a dark veil draping over his face. "He doesn't want a thing to do with us." The Canadian lad shoved his hands furiously into his suitcase, forcefully yanking out his various clothing items. "That's probably the only way Alfred made it into this institute; though he doesn't act the part, he's very intelligent. But, really, the chances of both him _and _myself getting chosen? They're pretty slim. There's no doubt in my mind that the people here were either threatened or bribed in some way or another."

"I am sorry, Matthew-san. It sounds like you have had a rough life."

"Yeah, well…" He sighed, exhaling deeply as his muscles relaxed. "No, I'm sorry. You don't want to hear this from me. I'm going to shower." Fists clenched, Matthew trudged into the bathroom, slamming the door and letting out a small groan.

_Dear Mother, I began college today, as you had hoped. I am grateful for having already made some tolerable acquaintances. Having Alfred around is helping things too. I have met the boy from Japan, who is now my roommate, and the English student. He seems to be witty and overly-proud, but I think, within time, we'll grow closer. He's sharing a room with the Frenchman… though he seems a little older than the rest of us. Maybe he's earning a higher degree. I'm not sure who Alfred was saddled with yet, but I'll tell you once I know. Your sons are doing well, so you don't need to worry._

"Matthew-san! The sink is broken!"

_I suppose I should be going now. Talk to you tomorrow._

********

"So…" Alfred mumbled, gnawing on a hamburger. "Where did you say you were from again?"

"Greece," came the nonchalant reply. A man of about twenty-seven years of age sat atop his mattress, stroking the head of a tabby cat affectionately. "I am Heracles Karpusi." His lengthy hair, a murky brown color, dangled into his face as his green eyes shut gently in a slumberous manner.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones!" The American shot him a thumbs-up.

"Might I ask… why the "F"?"

Alfred shrugged, flashing him a crooked smile. "Dunno. It sounds better than 'Alfred Jones', doesn't it?"

No reply was spoken from the older man's lips. "Hey, man?" the American remarked, prodding at his roommate's shoulder._ He's out cold… How can he fall asleep so quickly?_ It took Alfred a good hour to fall asleep, regardless of how exhausted he was. And Heracles had allowed slumber to take possession of his body in broad daylight. _What a strange guy…_

A vigorous vibrating sensation set itself off in his jeans pocket, jolting Alfred with a flinch. He groped around in the pocket, fishing out his sleek azure cell phone. His right hand flipped open the top, setting his hamburger on the countertop. "Hello?"

"Hello, Alfred."

The American boy's hand tensed, his heartbeat throbbing in his ears. "H-Hello, Father…"

"How are things around the Institute?"

"Fine, sir." Upon speaking the title of "sir", his voice gave an unintentional crack. _Oh shit…_ He gritted his teeth, eyes shutting tightly in anxiety.

There was a long, pregnant pause on the other end. Finally, after long moments of tense withheld silence, his father spoke again. "Alfred, whatever is the matter?"

"I'm afraid… I don't know what you're-"

"Don't give me that bullshit of yours, Alfred. You never were a very crafty liar." The man's voice remained exceptionally level, a calm, almost intimidating tone.

Alfred said nothing, biting his lower lip in apprehension. What was he to say, that Matthew had been accepted into the Institute as well? They both knew that was against the old man's wishes, as well as what would occur if his father found out the truth. "Alright, fine. I'm just a little uneasy right now, sir. I mean, it _is _my first day at college, after all. And there have been so many pretty girls… I dunno. I think I'm just a bit shaky from all of the overwhelming change."

The American boy could almost hear his sire smirking on the other end. "I know you're trying to cover for something, Alfred. Let us not remember what happened the last time you defied me."

Alfred's grip around the phone tightened, enough to crack the cover along the outside. "I know, sir. But I_ am_ telling the truth."

His father gave a cold chuckle. "Well, I suppose we shall see about that. When the time comes, you will come crawling back to me and give me the whole truth. If you don't… I guess I'll have to force it out of you. Until you have worked up enough courage to see passed your cowardice, you have lost your succession of the company. I expect you to give me the full honesty by the end of the year." The phone on the other end hung up, following a dial tone on Alfred's end. The boy clamped it shut, sapphire eyes lackluster and blazing with a dull fury. _I can't… I can't cover for your forever, Mattie. He'll find a way to learn of your presence, he's got people everywhere… I cannot let him find out. And neither can you._

The burger remained sitting on the counter, untouched until it became so sickeningly cold that Heracles had pitched it into the garbage can upon waking from his drowsy afternoon nap.

* * *

A/N: I'm feeling better, thank you. ^^ I think this is the longest chapter yet. I really enjoyed writing the suspense and mystery of the final few paragraphs. Yeah, this is mostly about Mattie, but the other characters will have some importance, too.

_Iesu sā_- Yes sir

_Mon cheri_- My dear

And for the fans of APFAP, I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a few days. I've been kind of preoccupied with this story. Don't worry, I've already started it. I'm just having trouble writing the current chapter because something interesting happens in the next…

**R&R: **I'll get motivation to write faster! :D


	5. Vinem Voro

A/N: Translations at the end. Don't take offense if they're incorrect; for the most part, these were taken from translation sites because I can't speak full sentences in any languages other than English and mild Spanish. The order of the words is probably incorrect. Just a little forewarning…

This chapter is a bit more dialogue-centered than description-centered. It also contains alcohol-usage. You've been warned.

* * *

"Ah, it's raining, Matthew-san!" Kiku breathed, gazing fondly out the pale glass window. Truth be told, the wall facing the outside was a thick glass as well, though murky and intentionally clouded to mask the glare of the sun. The Japanese boy sighed in pure contention, the pitter-patter of steady raindrops relaxing his thoughts in the silent atmosphere surrounding them. "Matthew-san?" He rotated his head a bit, directing his sepia eyes at his roommate, who had managed to doze off in the comforting drizzle that plunged down from the heavens above. A brief smile graced the sleeping boy's face, his lips quirking up in a smile as he squirmed and turned subconsciously to lie on his stomach, an utter sign of comical dreams.

_He is a little strange… but, maybe, there's more to him than meets the eye_, Kiku thought, allowing his vivid gaze to drift back over to the window. Matthew began to pick up a gentle snore, shuffling around in the sheets as he maneuvered again, spread-eagled on his back.

A shrill ringing blared out from atop the nightstand beside the Canadian's bed, jolting the Japanese boy out of his rain-trance and staggering clumsily over to the table. His slender fingers enclosed around the dull-red phone, assuring himself that such an obnoxious noise hadn't disturbed the peaceful, much-needed slumber of his roommate. "_Moshi moshi_?"

"Huh?" spoke the other end, clearly unaware of the customs and language of the Japanese society.

"Er, sorry… Hello?"

"Oh, hey, Kiku," the voice said casually, a cheerful demeanor evident in his voice. "It's Alfred. How are you and Mattie doing?"

"We're fine. Your brother is currently sleeping. Did you need something?"

"Well, since classes start tomorrow, why don't we all go out to dinner or something? You know, we'll go find a nice, classy restaurant… or maybe a bar of some sort. I read in the handbook that I can legally drink on this island. I could go for some fries and a cheeseburger whenever. That sound good to you?"

Kiku remained silent for a moment, casting a glance in his roommate's direction. "Well, it's perfectly fine with me. I'm far old enough to drink… I'll have to ask Matthew-san when he awakens."

"Oh, I'm sure he won't say no. You'll see. Who else should we invite? I'm stuck with some weird Greek dude, and he takes an afternoon-to-evening nap every day. He doesn't really strike me as the type to go out and drink anyway."

"Well, from what little information I was given about this university, the island is completely deserted except for the students and the faculty. We will probably end up meeting quite a few other classmates if we go."

"That's true! Geez, why are you Japanese all so smart? It's really degrading to the rest of us." Alfred paused for a moment on the other end, and Kiku felt his own head give the slightest shake. It wasn't that his country was full of geniuses; they just spent more time working on academic studies than Americans. "Anyway, yeah. I'll see you and Mattie later. Bye!"

"Goodbye." The line on the other end hung up, as did the Japanese boy. The seasonal rain outside continued to fall, its riveting hypnosis yet again beckoning him over to the window.

********

"Hn? A bar?" Matthew asked upon awakening from his blissful nap. Kiku sat poised at the end of the mattress, sipping an herbal tea from a porcelain cup. The Japanese man nodded assuredly, grazing the lip of the teacup with his finger. Matthew's mouth opened wide, agape for the world to see, and a stifled yawn huffed from within his chest. He rubbed sleepily at his half-shut eyelids with the back of his hand, vigorously shaking his head to fully wake. "Hrm… I've never really thought of my brother as the drinking type. I'm not much of a beer fan, but I suppose I'll make do. They're bound to have something else. Maybe something authentic…"

"Well, considering it is a school for different students from around the world, they will probably have many different alcoholic beverages. After all, doing otherwise would show favoritism."

"You're right. Or I could just get a soda." He shot Kiku a grin, chuckling. "How about you? A saké fan?"

"There is more to Japan than saké…" The teacup brushed his lips, a steam-protruding trickle of tea rolling along his tongue and down his throat, soothing his nerves about the upcoming academic year. He continued gently, smiling lightly. "But, yes, saké is a must. It reminds me so much of home…"

Matthew pushed himself upright and forced the covers under him. "Say, Kiku….? What was your home life like?"

"Honestly? Pretty dull. I didn't come from any sort of nobility, nor was I a man living in poverty. My family made an average amount of money in the technology business. I moved out a few years ago to go to another college, but still visited from time to time to socialize with my kin. I am an only child…. Nothing too interesting." With the utmost caution, he placed his porcelain cup upon the countertop, turning back to Matthew.

"Huh. I see… well, you don't know how lucky you are." The Canadian's disposition altered, his mellow tone darkening. His violet eyes glossed over in a shadowy discomfort. "Alfred and I… well…" He tucked his bony chin between his legs, which were now yanked close to him in a troubled state of mind. "We-"

"Hey, Mattie, Kiku!" The door all but gave way upon the violent knocking that erupted from the other side of the barricade. "Are you all ready yet?"

"Wha…?" Matthew reluctantly rose from his spot on the bed and gave the brass doorknob a solid jerk, swinging it open promptly to find that Alfred had flung himself at the door and now lay sprawled out on the floor in the doorway. "What do you think you're doing?" The Canadian's eyes darted to his watch. "It's not near time for dinner yet!"

"It's almost 8:30, Matthew. You forgot to set your watch ahead after we arrived." Alfred's gaze dove to the misty glass wall parallel to his body. "See? If you pull back the giant curtain, it's completely black outside. We need to leave as soon as possible."

His twin said nothing, lips spreading wide in a colossal, uncharacteristic yawn. His mouth clamped tightly once more, instead maneuvering his eyes into the direction of his roommate. "What do you think, Kiku?"

And, of course, the two would end up departing, along with Alfred, within five minutes' time.

"It's such a peaceful island…" Matthew commented as the group of men undertook the sight-seeing trek on the way to the local bar. The thick blanket of a pure onyx night draped itself over the calming campus below, a shimmering thread of luminous stars weaving its way between the empty spaces of the dark. A gentle breeze generated from beyond the cloudless abyss above, casting a swift gust to tickle the Matthew's face. His eyes, blinking up in wonder at the foreign sky above, shone a vivid lilac as his spectacled awe intensified. The path upon which his feet followed was laid out to flow with the rhythm of the land, curving in a certain natural way that simply couldn't compare to the differing lifestyle of his old living conditions. The road was paved with a peculiar stone of sorts; unfamiliar and alien, it had an incredibly smooth surface and adapted a cantaloupe-like color upon contact with human flesh, though a beige hue under normal circumstances. _Maybe it reacts to heat, in a sense…_ Matthew wondered, all but colliding with his brother and Kiku, who had come to an abrupt halt ahead of him. "Is something the matter?"

"We're here, bro!" Alfred proclaimed, bursting through the doors and strolling casually into the building. "Oh, beloved hamburgers, here I come! No more gyros or moussaka! They'd better have some normal, American food…"

The bar through which they had intruded, entitled "Vinem Voro", had a similar outlay to the rest of the town; that same, familiar compact glass surrounding each wall, opaque as the college dormitories had been. The ceiling, however, was composed of an ordinary, clear and assumedly-bulletproof glass, similar to that of the airport. _Building this town must have cost a fortune… no wonder we had to pay so many taxes…_ Matthew thought, stepping into the semi-empty tavern. It had a simplistic layout, coupled with maple wood flooring and barstools and tables with matching chairs. The bar itself was a sleek, regal white marble, adding some formal pizzazz to the casual idea that was your typical pub. A single bartender with brown locks of hair worked out front, serving a mug of lager to a broad-shouldered blonde man with his hair in a curious combed-back style. Another man, lankier and bearing a somewhat childish expression, sat beside him in the adjacent stool, running his mouth about various Italian matters (Matthew and the others immediately presumed him to be the "Italy Applicant".

"Ve~! Grandpa Roma! I wanna order some pasta!" the Italian man demanded to the bartender in a whiney voice, one that agitated another student, who sat alone at the opposite end of the bar. _This_ other man, head partially shielded with his left hand, clutched a mug of ale in his grasp, fingers slowly rubbing the side and capturing the droplets of transpiration upon the glass.

"Shaddup, yah bloomin' wanker! The rest of us want tah-"

"Arthur?" Matthew exclaimed, bewildered by the outburst of his acquaintance. The British man's outward appearance was nothing short of ghastly, possessing bloodshot emerald eyes half-veiled by the drapery of heavy eyelids. His thick blonde hair was messily tangled and disheveled, a few strands sticking up in salute near the back. Garbed in a simple white button-down shirt, the student's top was wrinkled and partially-unbuttoned, emphatically atypical from his act the day previous. "What on Earth happened to you?"

"I know how we can find out." Alfred approached the Briton leisurely, removing the glass from his firm hold.

"Gimme back my bloody ale, you damned git!"

"Yep. He's totally wasted." The American childishly raised the glass beyond Arthur's reach, thankful for his towering height in situations such as those. The Englishman promptly toppled over in attempt to stumble over to the irritating man.

_He would have said that to you sober…_ Matthew thought, shaking his head and turning his attention to the bartender. "One… hmm. I don't know… I think I'll stick with a good ol' ginger ale."

"Alcoholic?"

"No thank you." The Canadian mentally cursed himself for Alfred's much-too-acute hearing, as his taller twin came staggering over to Matthew, having given back Arthur's mug of ale.

"Oh, come on, Mattie. Don't stick to some pansy drink!" Hands shoving deep into his denim jean pockets, Alfred withdrew a few bills and some lint, placing the more useful of the two onto the top of the bar. "We'll have two number four's… and we'll both have the local liquor, whichever one that is."

"Grandpa Roma" gave a nod, smiling firmly all the while. Matthew cast an irked glance in his brother's direction, gnashing his teeth together in agitation. "Alfred, the 'local liquor' is the most expensive thing on the menu! Why do you insist on spending so much money on me? You'll go broke!"

Alfred smirked in a manner thought to himself (and no one else) as heroic and reassuring. "Aw, come on, Mattie. You're the only flesh and blood I've got left, save our father… But I don't particularly count him. Besides, Father has plenty of dough to go around. I'll eventually get his inheritance anyway, so-" _Oh, crap, that's right. I won't, will I? Not unless I spill the beans about Matthew… assuming that's what he wants to know. There's no way in Hell that'll happen, though. I'm no snitch. It's none of Father's concern if Mattie's attending this prestigious university; after all, he hasn't given my brother so much as a second glance over the years, so why care now? It's ridiculous, how little he lets me know about his plans…_

"Alfred-san? Is everything alright?" Snapped from his inner thoughts by Kiku's voice and Matthew's curious stare, the American burst into an unexplainable fit of gut-busting laughter, clutching his sides to compress his aching giggle spasm. Most of the students in the bar averted their attention from their earlier focuses to stare questioningly at the howling teenager on the floor of the tavern.

"Er… Matthew-san? What is your brother..?"

"Alfred, that won't work," Matthew grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. "You used that excuse at our sixteenth birthday party." He returned his thoughts to Kiku's inquiry. "He does absurd things like this when he's trying to change the subject. Don't ask me why, he's done it since we could walk. Now, really, Alfred, _what_ is the matter?"

"Oh, look, the food is here! Mmm, looks delicious! Nothing better than a good hamburger…" Alfred grinned in a cheesy fashion, whisking the alcoholic beverage from his tray and chugging it down in two swigs. "Aah, that's good stuff! Gimme another!"

"Don't get yourself drunk trying to hide something from me. I realize you may not feel up to telling me the truth, so I will wait until you're ready. If it's important, I would recommend spilling the reality soon." Matthew's striking violet irises faltered before narrowing and turning to the meal before him. "_Bon appetit_, I suppose."

"No!" shrieked a certain Englishman from beside them, grass-colored gaze blaring wildly at the Canadian. "Never, _never_ use a French term around meh 'gain! That blasted Bonnefoy boy has driven meh tah madness in the course o' two days." Not to mention the random times of the day that the Frenchman had chosen for his "love counseling", which more often than not just ended up with Francis and some client, male _or_ female, locking themselves in the bathroom and not coming out for another three hours. _Lord knows what they do in there…_

"Itadakemasu!" Kiku remarked cheerily, foraging into a bowl of noodles with the ravenous hunger of a wolf.

_For now…_ Alfred reassured himself, flattening out his crinkled jacket as he sat in the barstool to eat in a more… civilized manner, if one would call it that. _For now,_ _Mattie doesn't need to know about any of this… It would all only complicate things further. He's too sensitive and overly-concerned with his own life; I don't need him worrying about our family's future as well._ "Ah, wait, Mattie? You don't happen to have your cell phone on your, do you?"

"No, sorry. I forgot it back at the house and didn't have time to get it before my flight."

Good. As long as all ties were cut from Matthew and his father, all would go well… right?

********

"Alright, well, see you in the morning, Alfred. You too, Kiku."

The Japanese boy and the American waved and exchanged sweet farewells before exiting the pub and leisurely trekking back to the dormitories. Matthew had decidedly stayed behind to keep Arthur from wasting himself further, or from committing a regrettable offense.

"Arthur, we really should be going soon," the Canadian teen piped up, tugging at the Briton's sleeve. "You've had more than your fair share to drink. Just… leave the cup on the bar and say goodbye."

"Quit nagg'n… Gimme an'ther shot!" Arthur shoved his mug roughly forward into the bartender's hands, a single, sketchy hiccup emitting from his trembling chest. Matthew continued to yank at his shoulder, eventually managing to help the Englishman to his feet. "Oh, fine. Way tah ru'n my fun."

The Canadian rolled his eyes and sighed, draping Arthur's arm over his shoulder and doing the same with his own arm. "Come on, let's get you back home."

"Hey, Mittdew?" Arthur asked softly after minutes of walking under the stars in silence.

"Er… yes?"

"How c'me you got off s' easily the otha say? I wan' ta hear something 'bout you tha's embrass'ising."

"Well, that's asking quite a lot from me… I've never really thought about it before. I mean, I've got some juicy stuff on Alfred, but…"

"Oh, r'lly? Do tell…"

"I can't do that… at least, not while you're drunk. I don't want you doing something that you wouldn't do otherwise." Matthew assisted Arthur in the trudge towards his dorm room as they approached, removing the key from the Brit's pocket and unlocking the door.

"F-Frahnsis?!" Arthur blurted, bloodshot eyes gaping in horror. The Frenchman in question was laying in a rather… _compromising _position with a young brunette girl the two of them laying in each other's embrace upon a bed. The girl shrieked and darted under the sheets while Francis merely shot Arthur a grin.

"Whatever is wrong, _mon cheri_?"

"Firs' of all, don' call me that. Second, _whatdaya doing on meh bed?!_"

"U-Um… right. I'll just, uh, go now, I suppose. Good luck, you two…" Matthew rubbed the back of his head in anxiety, gently pushing Arthur forward into the room and shutting the door behind him.

_Well, that was close…_

********

Meanwhile, in a quaint little town located somewhere in northern Quebec, a lonely cell phone remained nestled in the uppermost drawer of the old dresser, the signature ringtone blaring out, muffled, throughout the abandoned residency. A single message popped up on the fading screen, signaling that a ridiculous quantity of calls had been so rudely missed, and the battery dwindled to nothing.

The constant ringing came to a hasty finish.

* * *

Vinem Voro: Latin equivalent of "Wine Swig". Well, more like "Wine Greedily-drink", but you get the idea.

A/N: Yes, the phone has some significance. Just reread the little part about Alfred's worries… Don't understand, just ask. It's all about inferencing…

Sorry if that chapter was unsatisfactory. I was having trouble detailing certain points in the chapter for whatever reason (could be because I took an _English_ midterm today…). Regardless, **I hope you will review**. It motivates me, and I'd like to get to **thirty or more** reviews by the end of the week! Dunno if it's possible, but we can try, eh? Pwease?


	6. Scáthanna d'aois

_Unsettling silence._

_Such an eerie devoid surrounded the lithe child in its ever-swallowing consumption of noiseless fear. The youth, a young Matthew of about four-and-a-half years of age, leaned drowsily against the doorframe of his bedroom, violet gaze hazed over with a dull sleepiness. Garbed upon his body was a clinging pair of azure pajama pants and a baggy gray top of Alfred's, as his own was churning about in the washing machine. A prolonged yawn drifted past his lips as he stood, dazed, in the doorway, awaiting his beloved other half to return to their room._

_The stalling silence shattered as an echoing yell rebounded off the walls, followed closely behind by a feminine holler. But, alas, this was not entirely uncommon around the Jones household. Many times did his parents bicker, which would thus evolve into a shouting argument, which could be heard, the children were sure, from the other end of the neighborhood. Matthew and Alfred had pondered over such matters many times, wondering why it was that their family acted in such a childish behavior. Unfortunately, neither had managed to come to a substantial conclusion._

_There was a loud pounding from the other end of the house, and the vicinity fell silent once more._

"_Mattie! Mattie!" beckoned a breathless voice, whisper all but inaudible in effort to conceal his voice from the parental unit. "Matthew! I'm scared! Help!" The older of the two twins clambered over to Matthew, hunched over in attempt to catch his breath. His caramel-blonde hair hung loosely in his face, much in need of a trim. This, however, was the least of the little boy's concerns._

"_Alfred? What's wrong?" The idea of his brave, "heroic" twin ever feeling the influence of horror struck a terrorizing jolt into his body, sending an inkling of a shiver down his spine._

"_Mommy smacked Daddy! And Daddy…" The child's sapphire eyes welled up with crystalline tears. "He hit her back, harder… there's blood! It's everywhere and it smells really bad!"_

_The twins exchanged looks of pure revulsion, each bursting into a muted sob. "What are we gonna do? Why are they fighting?" Matthew questioned, to no one in particular, as tears rolled freely down his flushed cheeks._

"_Maybe Mommy and Daddy are in trouble … Maybe they did something wrong."_

_Matthew's breathing rapidly increased as his brother's soft implication processed in his pint-sized mind. "A-Alfred… What if _we_ did something wrong?"_

"_That's not true! Why would it be our fau-?"_

"_Shh! Dad's coming! Back to the bed!"_

********

"Good morning, Kiku!" Matthew said cheerily, awakening from a peaceful night of sleep. The Canadian scrambled out from beneath the sheets and staggered on over to the other bedside, nudging the covers with his palm. "Hey, Kiku? You're going to be late for class! School starts today, remember?" However, upon further inspection of the disheveled blankets, it became increasingly evident that the short Japanese man had already made his departure. Envious of his roommate's ability to wake at such an early hour, Matthew's slim shoulders gave a brief shrug before his aching morning legs carried him over to the counter to devour a breakfast pastry. His slender fingers dipped into the box, removing a package containing two of the cherry-filled frosted rectangles. He gave them a curious sniff, split one neatly in half, and scarf down one of the sections. It was, admittedly, a bit unsatisfactory, but tolerant.

"Matthew? Kiku? Mind if I come in?" A brisk knock erupted from the other side of the door, and a certain Englishman's voice, indefinitely muffled from the other end, broke the atmospheric silence. "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Of course. Coming." The Canadian sat down his half-eaten pastry and swayed somewhat sleepily over to the door, swinging it open on its brass hinge and finding himself being nearly shoved aside in Arthur's desperate attempts to get inside. "Is… is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry for being such a bother to you, really. It's just that…" Arthur's accented voice trailed for a moment, fingers tugging anxiously at the tie around his neck. He was clad in a shirt similar to the one he had worn the previous night; a button-down white shirt with a collar, upon which his tie dangled, as well as a pair of black dress pants and shoes. The Briton's face flushed a bright red, startling his host with the sudden change of hue. "Well, if you wouldn't mind… Francis wanted to borrow some condoms. Have any?"

"Some… what?! Why in the world would we-"

"I know, I know. I tried to tell him otherwise, but he simply wouldn't listen to reason. Trying to convince him of anything is like trying to tell a rock to budge on its own. No matter how much you try to reason with it, you just get fed up and hurt your foot trying to kick it."

Matthew's expression twisted into one of a baffled man. "Um, right… well, either way, I can't help you. Kiku doesn't seem like the type to, you know… and I most certainly am not."

"Mind… mind if I ask what your schedule looks like?" Arthur's emerald eyes drifted their vision field to the window, focusing in on the sun ever-rising above the horizon. "I need to know that I share a class with someone of a satisfactory disposition."

"Sure thing… Here's the paper I received yesterday." The Canadian's hand reached towards a slip of paper on the nightstand, picking it up gingerly and placing it in the Englishman's hands. "Hey, you've been through a lot to get here, too. If you ever need anything, even a condom, don't hesitate to ask."

Arthur shot him a muddled expression, but a rare, pleasant smile soon graced his lips. "Thank you. I wish I could say the same for that French frog. From what I gather, he's some rich descendant of a nobleman. He had attended a college back in Paris, but never got the chance to complete his studies there. He decided, about two years later, to apply for more academies and try to finish what he started."

"If he wasn't such a romantic loon, he would sound like a pretty interesting fellow," Matthew remarked, peering over his guest's shoulder in curiosity. "He acts like he means well, anyway."

"Sometimes. Living with him is proving to be difficult, though." His face lit up unexpectedly. "Hey, we _do_ have our first class together! What a relief… it seems we also share the final class of the day. It's nice to know that I'll be acquainted with someone in at least two of my courses. "

"Don't you find it a bit strange though? I mean, the faculty assigned us to specific classes. Sure, we got to choose our electives, but there is more than one main course for each of the required subject."

"Hey, you're right… So what you're trying to say is that _they_ have control over what information goes on our job applications? If they choose our main classes, then that means that they have a set path for each of us…" Arthur's eyes subconsciously widened. "Matt? I think there's more about this Institute, or, hell, this bloody _island_ than they're letting on. It's a bit unnerving, if you think about it… What if they've been keeping watch on us the entire time? How else would they have gotten that personal information about everyone? I doubt that your brother had "wants to become a hero" on his résumé. Of course, it still wouldn't surprise me if he _had_…"

"I agree. It's only the first day, though; maybe they'll clear some things up. Well, I have to get ready, so if you could just wait out here until I'm done, and we can go together? Have a pastry or something."

"Fine by me." Arthur watched as Matthew turned his back to him and shut the door of the bathroom behind him, dragging with him a pile of clothes.

The Brit allowed his gaze to wander freely around the vast dorm room, marveling at its cleanliness and order. What with the insanity of the first week of classes and Francis' odd mannerisms, it seemed that his own room would remain an unkempt zoo. This dorm room, however, differed entirely from his own, when the tidiness of two men was taken into account. The shimmering glass window withheld perfect, glossy cleanliness. The light slate countertops were polished pristinely, tarnished only by a few crumbs left from Matthew's unfinished pastry, and the beds on the opposite end of the room were both neatly made, coupled by wrinkle-free plaid blankets. _These two have it made… but, I suppose with my blatant lie, I don't exactly deserve living conditions such as these._

"You don't think this is too casual, do you?" Matthew exited the bathroom clad in a simple gray vest with a thin white shirt underneath, a long pair of darker gray pants and sneakers. "I mean, you've dressed up for the event. I don't want to look underdressed."

"You look fine, so quit fretting about like a teenage girl." Arthur nibbled at the corner of a cherry pastry, the inkling of a scowl spreading across his lips as he tried, in vain, to savor the artificial tastes; definitely not pleasurable to his palette. "Well, if you're ready, should we leave?"

"I guess so." Matthew whisked his own breakfast from the counter and proceeded to drape his bag over his shoulders. "Where are_ your_ things?"

"Oh, they're right outside the door… whoops. I'll get them." Arthur reached for the brass doorknob, jerking on it violently and flinging the door open in time to see Alfred and some other man, presumably his Greek roommate, rushing down the hall in a frenzied panic. Leave it to the American to stumble over his own clumsy feet and fall over the backpack beside the door, landing flat on his face. "Well, well… Looks like we're going to have some extra luggage."

Alfred groaned, rubbing his aching forehead, which had begun to redden. "Go on without me, Heracles. I'll catch up with you later." The Greek man said nothing, maneuvering past the teen-on-the-floor and strolling leisurely away. Upon the departure of his colleague, Alfred whipped his head around to glare at the Brit, who had doubled over as well in a fit of laughter. "Were you waiting for me to come rushing down the hall or something?"

"No, not at all. But I _did_ rather enjoy it." Arthur smirked devilishly, grasping at his bag and pulling it forcefully from beneath the American's heavy weight. "Now come on, you two. I'm not going to arrive late to my first class because you had to wait around sitting all day!"

Alfred's eyebrow twitched defiantly, but his face betrayed his true emotions as it smiled brightly back. "Of course not. I think I'll go catch up with Heracles now… we were busy talking about cats and such. That guy has some strange feline fetish or something." With an affectionate wave at his sibling and a deathly glare at the Brit, Alfred spun on his heel and raced after his roommate, backpack dragging loosely from his right hand as he sprinted.

Matthew's shoulders flinched in an awkward shrug as he shut the door behind them and locked it, shoving the key back into his pants pocket. He exchanged one last look of mild tension with Arthur before initiating the trek from the dorms to the building in which they were to meet for their first class. The two walked in silence, an uncomfortable silence, as each absorbed their new environment with the utmost awe. Each turn of the pathway indicated a new, foreign appeal, with budding trees of gossamer, sea green leaves that resembled a cross between an oak leaf and a pine needle. The sky shone bright blue in the refreshing glow of the hovering morning sun as it overlooked the world below in delight.

"It's… I think it's a about time I told you the truth." Arthur's eyes darted to the ground in shame, unwilling to meet the gaze of his acquaintance. "I was born into a horrendously poor family. We lived on the streets of Chipping Campden for the first nine years of my life, whereupon we acquired a small tea shop from my newly-deceased uncle's will. It provided a shelter for us, as well as a substantial place to begin a business, to make a profit of some sort. We started off shaky, and oftentimes we wound up losing money as opposed to making it, but we eventually managed to keep a steady income. I was homeschooled, as we still couldn't afford any public academy, and finished at home with a high-school-level education. Then, about a year ago, my older brothers moved out to find more financially-friendly jobs, and we had difficulty making profit of any sort. My other brother and I assisted my parents the best we could, but we eventually ended up having to close up. I signed up for this academy because I saw it as an opportunity to earn my wings. I want to walk out of here a new man, with a degree, and earn enough money working a different job to reopen the shop… or perhaps give my family something greater."

"That's… that's awfully deep for just one man. Are you sure you can manage to do that on your own?" Matthew questioned, face gentle in his inquiring.

"No, I'm not sure about anything. But I sure as hell can try!"

The Canadian gave a small smile. "Now you sound like my brother."

"What?! I don't even compare to that bloody excuse for a-"

"He's really not as bad as he seems." Matthew's glistening violet gaze stared thoughtfully ahead as they walked, approaching the main entrance of the magnificent building. "He and I have been through so much…" He sighed shakily before continuing. "We were born by mistake. My mother was seeing a man back in college, and they had been unbelievably close. They couldn't seem to resist each other's desires, and before they knew what they were doing, my mother wound up pregnant. The man, my father, married her upon finding out, much to the dismay of his family. Well, we were born healthy, though they weren't expecting twins in the least. I'm a little hazy about what happened directly after that, seeing as we were only infants. Alfred has an old diary of Mother's; I should ask him to show it to us again sometime. All I know is that, between the unexpectedly-early time of our birth and what followed, our Father changed. He morphed into a cruel, cold-hearted bastard…" The Canadian brought his hand up to his mouth in shock. "I-I'm sorry. Regardless of who I'm speaking of, I shouldn't use words like that to-"

"Oh, who cares? It's fine with me, especially if he's as wicked as you describe him." Arthur's face broke out into a sad smile. "But, hey, maybe things will work out for the better. For the both of us."

Matthew swallowed hard, the blaring sound of large clock in the courtyard signaling that the beginning of class was to start within ten minutes' time. "Yeah," he muttered, returning the smile with unexpected vivacity.

"For the both of us."

* * *

A/N: Fun Fact: A certain American breakfast pastry was discontinued in Australia in 2005. xD How convenient… I found that out after I wrote this.

Anyways, fun trivia aside, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a nice, relaxing way to get away from the stress of midterms and such. I have two more to take tomorrow, and two more the day after that… I took three today. Accursed exams!

**Important**: Pairings and such that will be evident in this fic are currently unknown. Anyone with any pairing or even character requests can either post them in a review or send me a message. I want to hear your input! So far, GreecexJapan and USxUK have been requested, so if nobody objects, they _may_ sneak in here occasionally. ;D

Regardless, expect another chapter soon… as long as you keep reviewing! Let's make it to **35** this time! Yay motivation!


	7. Dobro Pozhalovatʹ v ad

A/N: I feel like a complete dope. I entitled each chapter with names in other languages, yet I forgot to post the translations. So sorry, adoring fans and flaming buggers!

Départ: The French equivalent of "Departure"

Tōchaku: Japanese for "Arrival"

Atychia: Greek for "Misfortune"

Vinem Voro: As mentioned in the chapter, Latin for "Wine Swig"

Scáthanna d'aois: Irish for "Shadows of Age"

Dobro Pozhalovatʹ v ad: Russian for "Welcome to Hell"

Regarding pairings: I should have cleared up something. Any pairings present in this fic will most likely be brief and mostly implied, as romance was not the purpose of this story. Second of all, regardless of how many other couples are mentioned, Matthew most likely WILL NOT end up with anybody. Sorry if this comes as a disappointment, but I have my reasons. Don't let that turn you away from this fiction, please. The genre is not romance, and it shan't change.

Don't kill me. I've been scatterbrained this week. Enjoy this chapter… or don't. Your choice…

* * *

"Well, looks like this is it…" Matthew muttered under his breath, gawking up at the towering wooden door before them. It stood at a good seven feet tall, broad and regally patterned with a traditional renaissance design. The hallways, vividly lit by natural sunlight, as it seemed everything in the town was, were gaping and spacious, stretching far beyond the sights of a single man. The ceiling stood higher still than the door itself, tall enough to compare with a colossal skyscraper… or, at least, so went the thoughts of a certain Canadian student. "What class was this supposed to be again?"

"The schedule paper doesn't specify, not that it surprises me all that much." Arthur's emerald orbs rescanned the semi-wrinkled paper in his hands, head shaking slowly. "I respect a certain sense of anonymity, but this school takes it a bit far. Shall we go in?" From beyond the barricade created by the door, the two students heard not a single noise erupt from the other end. They weren't, by any means, late; Arthur and Matthew both made it a point to be ridiculously punctual.

Matthew gave a hesitant nod, beckoning the Englishman to enter first. The older male grunted, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath and tapping his slender fingers along the outer rim of the doorknob. Swallowing a hard gulp of saliva, the Brit jerked on the handle and shoved the door open with a rather brutal force, allowing them their first view of the class. Or lack thereof.

"You're late," remarked a sickeningly-cheerful voice. A single man stood parallel to the two students, a vexing smile plastered onto his face as a grin is sewn onto a china doll; so innocent in appearance, it was inarguably repulsing. He wore a typical suit-style dress shirt, what the two students assumed to be the required school uniform that they were to receive, complete with khaki pants and a deep red tie. A lengthy khaki-colored scarf hung loosely from around his neck, bundling his collarbone and throat from the chilly air conditioner present indoors. In all honesty, Matthew mistook him for a student; he certainly didn't look any older than them. "I assume you two are Matthew Williams and Arthur Kirkland, da~?" Again, that unsettlingly-sweet grin that churned Matthew's stomach into fearful knots planted itself directly on his face.

"Yes, sir. Am _I_ to assume that you're one of the beta students?" One of Arthur's thickly-groomed eyebrows rose defiantly, clearly not impressed with this show of simpering. "So, in all actuality, you aren't much older than us, correct?"

"Ivan Braginski, Russian beta student. Now, if you will, make your way to the back room and find the rest of the class. Further instructions will be given afterward…" His welcoming violet eyes gleamed in the bright light of the building, focusing in on the Briton. "Unless you have something better to do?"

"N-No. I'm perfectly fine…" Arthur felt his voice crack as his legs nearly buckled beneath him. "Come on, Matthew. Let's hurry up and find the others." He clutched desperately onto the Canadian's thin wrist and whisked him past the Russian creep, who began emitting a murderous aura of sorts, pulling him out the door in the back of the classroom and into a much more spacious enclosure. Slamming the door frantically behind them, he detached his clammy hand from Matthew's wrist and to his own beating heart. "That could have ended horrendously. There's something wrong with that man, Matt. I don't like it. Let's just hope that the beta students aren't our professors for the remainder of the year."

"Beta students?" Matthew questioned, curiosity evident in his purple gaze.

"Yes. According to the handbook, a select few college students were taken from their academies and placed in the nameless Institute. They were to go about their lives as the true students would, in order to test everything out. After all, things at this college are just so _bizarre_ to everyone. Clearly, that Ivan guy was one of the first to arrive, as he seems have his own share of bizarreness as it is…"

"I'm sorry, Arthur. What was that you were saying?" chimed an all-too-familiar voice. Matthew could have sworn that his fellow classmate rocketed into outer space from his startled jump. The Russian peered out from behind the desk in the center of the room, beaming smugly at the two newcomers. "If you have nothing more to say, then do take your places in the crowd, da~?"

"Of course, of course… Come on Matthew." The two newcomers, stealing one last suspicious glance at the beta student, staggered anxiously over to a small group huddled together like a herd of sheep in the corner of the room. Their class was exceptionally small, as school gathering come, consisting of only about seven other men and women, not including themselves. Undeniably, they were nothing short of culturally diverse; clothing and physical attributes accounted for a variety of different faces. "Guess this is our homeroom class, huh? Assuming we _have_ a homeroom, that is…"

Matthew said nothing in reply, instead awaiting further instructions from Ivan, who was fingering through a stack of papers, bundled together with a formal band. The Russian man's violet eyes bore into the Canadian's, identical in hue yet opposite in tone, and an intimidated gleam flashed before the beta's eyes. This was, however, thankfully short-lived, and the tension settled in the room as the older man turned to the group. "As you know, my name is Ivan Braginski. I will be the equivalent of an upperclassman to you, so don't do anything that you'll regret." His wicked smile broadened. "Today will be a fairly simple day, as long as you listen to and obey everything that I am about to tell you. Anyone with any objections can hop on a plane and resign. Shall we begin with a tour?"

A stream of uneasy glances darted between each member of the group, eyes meeting each other in a glare of paranoia. The class remained silent, dead as a doorknob, until Ivan ushered them forward, wearing a milder smile, but one of demoralization nonetheless. No other words escaped his tightly-pressed lips as he turned on his heels and casually strode out into the hallway, his "students" shadowing reluctantly behind. "This is the "A" hallway. It is here that you should find most of your core classes. The professors will expect you to arrive promptly one minute before the final bell rings. Oh, and one more thing; don't be too surprised if your mentors aren't much older than yourselves. Don't worry; most are experienced, but we're still awaiting replies and arrivals from the other teachers, so a few beta students have had to fill in the position. Ah, Raivis?" The Russian's gaze fell upon its poor victim, a young boy who had begun to stray, rather clueless, around the vast hallway. "Let's not travel too far from the crowd, da~?

"That kid barely looks old enough to be in high school!" Matthew whispered to Arthur, readjusting his glasses upon his nose. "Where's he from?"

"I'm guessing he's that kid from Latvia. According to the bartender at Vinem Voro, Raivis Galante was invited to stay at the university while his family was away. Apparently, he has a close aunt who works within the faculty, and she agreed to have him live and mingle with the rest of the students." Arthur jerked his head a single time, signaling to Matthew that they were going to get left behind, lest they quit gabbing about gossip and catch up with the others.

"And, if you turn this corner, you can find the cafeteria. Other than the main office and the classrooms, this is the only other place you will probably come across the betas. A few of them work the food lines, while others help tutor you little ones in that corner over there." Ivan motioned to an isolated corner of the cafeteria, collecting cobwebs and caked with grime and dust. "As you can see, none of the betas did it very often. If the food offered here does not agree with your tastes, you are allowed to walk over to the local restaurants, though it costs less money to buy from the school. If you look-"

"Ivan~!" chided a deep-yet-feminine voice from the repulsive corner. Upon further inspection, Matthew could make out a frail woman's form in the shadows, sunlight from beyond the glass walls gleaming upon her oceanic blue eyes in a somewhat ferocious fashion. Averting his gaze to the glimmering floor before her, the faintest tint of silver tainted the stark-white tiling upon which she sat, appalling the Canadian with a terror-induced revulsion. Within her slightly trembling hands, she clutched a butcher's knife, a hint of deep red encrusted upon the tip and along the ever-sharp edge… what was assumed to be cow blood, from cafeteria food of the meaty variety.

"O-Oh, hello, Natalia." Ivan's voice twitched involuntarily and his lips quirked ever-so-slightly during his eternal smiling. "Underclassmen, this is Natalia, the student who enrolled form Belarus. She's a beta, like me, and is one of two great cooks here at the Institute." His wide grin failed to falter in the slightest, though his legs seemed more than willing to remove the rest of his body from the premises. "Let's move on, da~?"

"Ivan, come back," the strange beta said dreamily, taking a struggling crawl in the man's direction as he whisked away from her field of vision. "Let's get married now…"

"We'll talk about that later, da?" he shouted from across the room before shutting the door and brushing off the front of his uniform. "Anyway, class, don't take Natalia lightly. She was the first person to sign up for the beta testers, and has been through more than the rest of us. I like to think that this is what has deranged her so much…"

_How can he say that with such a cheery smile on his face?_ The thought aroused distaste within Matthew's heart, his arms folding over his chest in saddened dismay. _I guess he's been through a lot too, but I don't think everything's alright in _his_ head, either…_

Arthur followed leisurely behind the rest of the meager crowd, green eyes darting this way and that as he clasped his hands properly in front of him. He had recognized a few familiar faces upon passing by other tour groups; for instance, he had managed to pick out that odd Italian from the bar the other day… the one who had eaten about five full plates of spaghetti before getting dragged out by his German comrade. He had also come across both Francis and Alfred, who had managed to share a homeroom as well, and flipped them both the bird behind his back as they walked past each other. Neither the Frenchman nor the American was all _that_ bad, but torturing them as they had to him would always prove to be an entertaining pastime. _Matthew sure hasn't said much since the tour started. Wonder if he's alright…_ "Hey, Matt? Is everything-?"

Alas, as frantically as the Brit searched around for his acquaintance, Matthew Williams was nowhere to be found.

********

_I can't believe I got separated… That Russian psycho is definitely gonna do me in now!_ Matthew could feel his heart rate escalate to the sky as he rushed in a crazed panic down the mostly-deserted halls of the Institute, huffing and panting as he pushed himself well beyond his fitness limit. He skidded around a corner, gazing behind his shoulder. _What am I going to do? It's only the first day of class, and I've surely already managed to anger my beta… Why do these things always happen to me? Why do they-_

"Oof!" Before he could twist his head around to look forward again, the Canadian applicant found himself colliding with another student, his thin-rimmed spectacles rebounding off of his face and onto the slick tile floor, soon followed by the two teens toppling over from loss of balance. "Sorry, sorry! I'm kind of in a hurry." Matthew snatched his glasses from the floor, slipping them hastily back on his nose and stealing a glance at his unfortunate victim, sitting upright beside him.

It was a woman, one of a year younger than him. Her body, frame well-hidden beneath a jacket draped over her shoulders, was garbed in the typical Institutional uniform (that he would have received, had he kept up with his group), and her face was well-wreathed by auburn locks of hair. Her eyes met his, a striking hazel, and she immediately looked away in desperation, irises darting back and forth in search of something.

"Um, sorry. Here, need some help?" he asked sheepishly, embarrassed by his mistake. He reached down, offering a hand.

"Not from you." Ouch. That stung, regardless of whom it was he was speaking to. She rose to her feet, brushed off her long black skirt, and raced away. The peculiar woman's head darted left and right, still in deep search for an unknown object of value as her lithe form disappeared beyond his field of vision. Matthew watched her leave, standing upright as well before taking off in the opposite direction, panicky as ever.

If first impressions have a lasting effect, then he wouldn't get along at all with that rude_ lady_, if one would call her that. He would continue running, until he would come across his group at last, scolded by Arthur for straying too far. Thankfully, the Englishman had had enough courtesy to cover for him, and the Canadian wasn't forced to endure the wrath of Ivan Braginski…

A wrath which, he feared, would send him to his death. But Matthew Williams had always been a bit paranoid, why should this differ any?

********

Alfred could feel his phone vibrate violently within his pants' pocket. As a matter of fact, the accursed bugger had been going off consistently since he had departed from the classroom to go on this pointless trek around the campus. The American couldn't help but assume the worst, however, and had blatantly ignored the aggravating quiver until the time had come to excuse himself to the restroom and had hurried desperately for the secluded bathroom in which he could talk on the phone in privacy.

"Hello?" he asked, flipping open his phone.

"Alfred." _Father._ And the old man did _not _sound pleased. "Care to tell me the truth yet?"

"Truth about what?"

"You know very well what I'm referring to. You've been behaving in an even more idiotic manner than usual. And, while we're at it, mind telling me why the Canadian won't pick up his phone?" Again, the heartless voice retained a calm, icy tone.

"His _name _is Matthew," Alfred seethed, eyebrows arching into a look of pure disgust. "And, no, I don't know why."

"I would also like to know why there is suddenly a hole in my wallet. I seem to be missing a certain bundle of money, valuing at about ten thousand dollars?"

The teen said nothing in reply, pounded at the stall door with his fist, and hung up abruptly. He immediately regretted ending the call; he was required to visit his father over the next break, and would undoubtedly be punished for his disobedience and disrespect.

_Just another scar to match, I suppose…_

Without another word, the American student retreated from the stall and continued on with his group, massaging his bruised fist.

* * *

A/N: One last exam tomorrow, then I get the half of the day off! Yay! Expect more from me regarding this story and APFAP by tomorrow night.

Because someone will ask, Mattie does not end up with the rude girl.

R&R. We've hit 35, now let's go for… 100! Kidding, that's a bit unrealistic, but maybe within time, we can get there! No, I don't expect that many after one update, but eventually, it would be a nice goal to accomplish.

And I would like to thank those of you following this little story of mine. Love ya to bits!


	8. Günbatımı

Much to the surprise of Matthew Williams, it seemed as though most of the professors at the Institute had yet to arrive. In only one of his courses, a government and politics class of some sort, had he received a full-fledged mentor, an all-but-silent man who rambled on and on to himself about how much he wished to be back in the military. When questioned about his old residency (before coming to the island), he had glared daggers at the curious student and returned to his inner ramblings, though Matthew had managed to make out the word, "Germania" from the opposite end of the room… not that he was entirely sure how that was possible.

The remainder of the first day carried out as planned, calmly and serenely. The final class of the day was upon him, yet another unknown course he had been assigned to. However, as he rushed rather hurriedly in the direction of the supposed room, he found himself standing breathlessly in front of not a classroom, but a gym. _Even at the Institute they have a fitness class…? And why would I have been assigned to that? I'm not exactly buff, but I'm not a flabby wimp either. But Arthur was given this class as his final period as well… this entire setup makes absolutely no sense!_ Matthew swept back his stray curl of hair from his face and nudged the door open with his aching fingers.

"Ah, Mattie!" Matthew's eyes widened, still so unused to the sound of his brother's cheery voice. Alfred sat in the bleachers with a cola grasped tightly in his hand, partially shielded from his twin's view by Kiku and Arthur, who leaned casually against the plaster of the wall on either side of the American. "We're all in the same class together!"

"How did that happen?" Matthew asked, perplexed by his unfamiliar luck. Peering down the row of seats, he recognized the faces of a few other classmates from his previous courses; Wang Yao of China from homeroom, Vash Zwingli of Switzerland from his government class, and Tino Väinämöinen of Finland from the course previous to this one (a debate class of some sort). Quite a few unfamiliar faces made themselves evident to Matthew's eyes as well, all male, of course. He assumed that the female students had their own "gym class", if that truly was the meaning of this class.

Alfred flashed his twin a pleasant smile. "Artie said that the handbook mentioned something about a class set aside each day for a random purpose. Depending on the events of the rest of the day, it could be used for anything, from a gym class to a study period to… well, even an extra lunch. This is going to be-"

"Awesome! Just like me!" proclaimed a voice from the entrance behind the group. The towering doors burst open with exuberant force, and three more men entered the large arena-like setting. Leading the group was a man of average height, flaunting his "awesomeness" full throttle. His face was twisted into an arrogant smirk, and his platinum-blonde hair whipped around frantically as he brushed the tips from his crimson eyes. Following closely behind him were the last two of the class to arrive, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo the Spaniard and Francis Bonnefoy the Frenchman.

"Oh, bloody hell…" Arthur whimpered, sinking lower against the wall. Sharing a class with the sodding American was bad enough, but spending that much time with both him _and_ the agitating Frenchman? He assured himself that he would be left for dead by the end of the day.

"Alright, now that it looks like you're all here, we can begin the_ real_ class," remarked a smooth male's voice. The group of male students silenced themselves instantaneously as an average-height man stalked into the arena.

_Isn't it a little hot to be wearing a getup like that?_ Matthew thought, a bit dumbfounded by the beta's peculiar attire. He wore a red fez and a lengthy beige scarf, though his largest oddity was unarguably the white mask upon his seemingly-tan face. _Maybe he's Middle Eastern…?_

"Might as well start off with an introduction. I'm Sadiq Adnan, the beta student from Turkey. Today, we're going to be sitting around doing absolutely nothing. Feel free to just get up and leave… permitting that Russian doesn't find you. He means serious business." With those final words of wisdom, he whirled on his heel and retreated into the locker room, shutting and double-locking the door behind him.

"Really? Just like that, aru?" Yao asked rhetorically, shrugging his thin shoulders before gazing down the row of fellow students beside him.

"I guess so… Well, what now? Think we should go ahead and leave?" Alfred asked, though not directed at anyone in particular, as he slurped down the last sugar-filled gulp of soda and dumping it in the trash can beside the seat. "I mean, it's not like we have much to do around here. I didn't get any homework or anything…"

"I would stick around for a while. Ivan is not particularly forgiving." Arthur's frame gave a shudder at the horrific thought. "I wouldn't put it past him to physically harm any one of us."

"What, is he on drugs or something?"

"I highly doubt that, but he behaves differently than most college students would. One must be cautious around his type…"

"_Mon cheri_, why use caution around any man? You should really be more imprudent with these sorts of things…" Francis brought his index finger and thumb up to his stubble-textured chin in thought, though discovering his topic of wonder was not a top priority on the Englishman's list.

"I don't think of Ivan in that way, Francis. Not everyone has to find themselves attracted to every man and woman on the planet…" Arthur's face reddened unexpectedly. "I would eventually like to get some information on this school, though. I'm not entirely sure of how I'll go through with that, but if anyone has any suggestions, feel free to voice them."

Kiku's expression faltered briefly. "I do not know. What is it that you want to know about the Institute, Arthur-san?"

"I don't know… everything? It's just so bizarre…" His fingers absently wove in and out of his blonde hair, and his emerald orbs directed their solemn gaze at the wall adjacent to him. "The anonymity, the knowledge about everyone, and it seems as if they have control over the fate of everyone's lives. Notice how most of our classes, the ones they chose for us, were related to politics or culture or history in some way or another? Don't any of you find it a bit_ too_ odd? I didn't sign up for this!"

The surrounding students retained their silent statures, exchanging unsettling glances with one another, enough to cause a discomforted churning in Matthew's weak stomach. All around who had taken part in the touchy conversation knew it to be true; the Briton had yet to speak a real lie since his humiliation aboard the shuttle. What was to be done about it, though? There was no reversing their applications, nor could they gain divine control of the mysterious school board. Taking matters into their own hands gave off the aura of impossibility.

The unpleasant lack of noise was shattered crudely by the shrill ringing of Alfred's cell phone, all but having a spasm within his jacket pocket. The culturally-diverse company met his eyes unwavering, questioning looks plastered on their curious faces. Alfred shot them an unconvincing smile, a chuckle of tension escaping his slightly-parted lips. The particular song that had resonated upon the receiving of the call had been a dead giveaway to the American as to who was calling at such an inconvenient hour.

"Hn? Are you going to answer that, Alfred-san?" Kiku inquired, concern spread wide across his face.

"Nah, it's probably just some salesman or something. Eh heh heh, I don't really want any product of theirs…"

"Alfred, is it…?" Matthew interrogated, eyebrows knitted together tightly in unease. When his twin failed to utter a comprehendible reply, the Canadian lashed out, seizing his brother's wrist and smiling reassuringly. "Just let it be." The blare of the ringtone ceased just mere seconds later.

_Father's going to have my head for this when I get home,_ Alfred thought as he returned the artificial smile to his twin. _Not that Mattie ever has to know about it. The last thing he needs to worry about is my wellbeing._

*********

"See you around, Arthur! Francis!" Matthew called out, waving his hand politely in riddance as said students strode back into their dormitories. He and Kiku infiltrated their own room, the Japanese man locking the door tightly behind them. Matthew spread his lanky arms wide, inhaled sharply, and flopped limply onto the mattress of his comforting bedspread's embrace. The young man's sprawled-out body capacitated the majority of the room on the bedding, so Kiku confined himself to his the seat beside the window, as his own bed was entirely covered in schoolwork received throughout the day.

"It's such a pleasant view…" Kiku muttered, the orange glow of the setting sun reflecting a youthful gleam in his murky brown gaze. "It's just so nostalgic. I used to see thing like this all of the time, back in Kyoto. Things were always so serene, so at peace. Well, it didn't last, and it continued to modernize… but, sometimes, my cat and I would come out to watch the sunset. I miss that little tyke. It's a real shame that pets aren't allowed in the dormitories."

"Your… cat…?" Certainly not the response Matthew had expected to hear pass his roommate's lips, yet he persisted all the same. "Yeah, I understand. Hey, back in the gym, Alfred mentioned that Heracles kept a bunch of cats in their dorm. Are you sure it's against the rules?"

"That's what it said in the handbook. But, if he has cats, then…?" Kiku's expression lit up, a divine shimmer spreading across his face. "If you don't mind, I think I will go now… you know, visit your brother and the Greek student. You can come along if you wish."

"I'm right behind you." Matthew beamed in return, pleased greatly by the thought of bonding with his twin. They had reunited only a few days ago, and neither had made any attempt to socialize beyond how often they had under normal circumstances. Besides, if Kiku desired some quality time with a beloved feline, why not go along for the enjoyment of mingling with his brother? Admittedly, the Canadian teen had always had a knack of being timid, but once he became familiar with someone, they would surely become inseparable. The two men placed their schoolbags beside the front door and initiated the perilous trek from their room to Heracles' and Alfred's room two rooms down.

A violent shouting erupted from beyond the burgundy oak door. "Heracles! Your tabby won't let go of my cell phone!"

"She is a pureblooded Egyptian Mau. She doesn't even remotely resemble a tabby!"

_Alfred always was more of a dog person…_ Matthew shook his head and swiftly rapped on the door, taking a step back and awaiting allowance into the dormitory room. The quarreling slowed to a halt, and the door swung open with such velocity that Matthew flinched at the sudden motion. Alfred stood in the doorway, hair tangled in a messy disarray and bomber jacket falling halfway down his shoulder.

"Hey, Mattie, Kiku!" he remarked cheerily, breathing heavily as he readjusted his glasses. "Welcome in!"

"Hi, Alfred. Kiku came here to see the cats, and I figured you and I could try and catch up while he and Heracles spend time together." Matthew strode past his twin and over to the window, followed in pursuit by Alfred. Kiku, on the other hand, had taken great interest in a lanky Somali feline at his feet, and was already in deep conversation with the Greek man. Never would Matthew have thought of his roommate as the type to converse so passionately about cats, but, hey, to each his own.

"So, Mattie… Um, what's up?" Alfred interrupted his inner thoughts. "I mean, what did you come here to talk about?"

Matthew's violet gaze met his brother's eyes of blue, locking firm glances for a moment. "Nothing in particular. I just wondered how things have been going… you know, with Father and the company. I understand entirely if you don't want to talk about it, but-"

"Oh, nothing much. Things back home had been pretty tame, actually. The company has been prospering beyond what anyone had anticipated."

"But… really, Alfred… Were you happy?" Matthew's eyes darkened, his smile disintegrating into a frown.

"Of course I was! Why would I lie to my only remaining flesh and blood… well, besides Father?"

"Your face suggests otherwise."

A pregnant silence presented its stagnant self, disturbed only by a laugh sounding from the direction of Kiku and Heracles. Alfred's gaze averted to out the window, suddenly finding the outside world much more fascinating to gawk at. "Well… Hey, remember when we used to go on those family vacations? You know, back when we were kids?"

_Leave it to Alfred to change the subject._ "I'm _not_ going to be so easily distracted by that. But, yes, I do remember them. I miss them, too."

"Yeah…"

"_Mattie!" A child of about nine years of age darted out from the obstacles of the crowd, arms flailing wildly in the air as he approached the frail form that was his twin brother. While Matthew much would have preferred an affectionate embrace, his sibling had other ideas, and instead tackled him head-on to the ground. "I haven't seen you in so long!"_

"_I know, I know! Please get off of me!" Matthew said, voice muffled by Alfred's all-too-large coat. His brother obliged and assisted his twin to his feet. "Mom said Dad wasn't coming this time."_

"_Nope. He said he had something better to do. I don't really mind, though. I have much more fun with you and Mom anyways!" Alfred smiled cheekily, unzipping his heavy winter coat. Upon further inspection of his surroundings, however, the flamboyant child began to worry. "Where_ is_ Mom?"_

"_She went to the bathroom. She told me to wait for you out here." Matthew's eyes lit up with pure delight. "Did you hear where we're going?"_

"_No. Dad never tells me anything like that. I wish I knew why."_

"_Oh. Well, Mom says we're going _there_!" The Canadian child pointed a skinny finger directly at a poster hanging by two metal loops from a wooden post._

"_Lawn-done?" Alfred read, eyebrow rising in question at the odd pronunciation. "Where in the world is Lawn-done?"_

"_I think it's pronounced "London", not Lawn-done." Matthew's voice gave way to several sniggers, interrupted only by the echoing sound of light footsteps resonating from the bathroom hall. "Sounds like Mom's coming."_

_Alfred peered anxiously around the corner, heart rate escalating by the second. He had yet to see his mother since she and his twin had left for Quebec, and felt an inner discomfort in his gut about meeting her again. What if she despised him? What if he was cast aside like his father had done to Matthew? The American boy took a hesitant step back, clutching his suitcase to his chest in queasiness._

"_Matthew, has your brother come yet?" asked a woman's voice from behind the door, which opened just far enough for them young woman to meet the innocent orbs of blue of her other son. Alfred could feel his legs dissipating into jelly, his breathing coming in short gasps. Her outward appearance was not all that different from his own; the same oceanic gaze, the familiar blonde hair with that identical little clump of hair that stuck up in the front. Though she towered over his childish frame, she depicted not the image of a cruel-hearted snake but that of the loving mother he had barely known. He felt the warm sensation of tears brimming his eyes, a sensation he had been forbidden to feel by his father back at home, and allowed them to pour freely as his legs carried him forward and into his mother's welcoming embrace. Father would have scolded him for the tears shed, but none of that mattered in that moment as violent sobs racked his bony shoulders._

"Come to think of it, that was the trip that we met Arthur on," Matthew said as he reminisced. "He and his oldest brother were working part-time at the hotel we were staying at. He made your life a living hell back then, too."

"Yeah. It's funny how you can run into people like that. Shows you just how small the world really is…" Alfred's eyes glowed beneath the dulling light of the sunset. "I miss those days something awful."

"So do I."

Alfred's face beamed suddenly, his hands finding their way to his twin's shoulders. "Hey, what do you say that we go on another vacation over the break? I realize that's still a pretty long way away, but it'll give us some time to enjoy the way things used to be. We can even invite the others, if you want."

"That sounds like fun…" Matthew felt his lips quirk in an upturned smile. "I'd like that. Very much." The Canadian's eyes saddened, his shoulder nudging his brother's lightly. "But don't think you've gotten yourself out of the subject of your life with Father."

"Well, I-"

"Whether you like it or not, I'm going to find out what you're hiding from me."

Alfred's smile vanished, his hands releasing their hold on his Matthew. He was already keeping his twin's presence a secret from his Father, and now he had something hidden about his home life as well?

Had his life really become nothing but secrecy and lies?

* * *

A/N: Something about this chapter seemed… off to me. I dunno.

Günbatımı: Turkish for "Sunset"

No more exams! Huzzah! Let's **review** to celebrate, da? I desperately wanna get to fifty sometime soon!


	9. Chá Yè Zhuān Guì

"Hn? A tea shop?" Matthew grasped the dormitory's phone tightly, pressing the cold plastic against his ear as he conversed with his acquaintance. He and Kiku sat alone in their room, the Japanese student gazing fondly out the window, as he often did after arriving back to his dorm after his classes ended. Matthew, on the other hand, was leaning up against the wall, sitting atop the kitchen counter in mild boredom.

"Yes!" replied the voice of a certain Englishman on the other end of the line. "What do you say? You, Kiku, and I. I don't know where we'd find the money to pay for bills and keep it in tip-top shape, but it's certainly worth a try, yes? We have the potential to make a great profit from this. And, of course, we could sell little pastries… you know, biscuits and scones and whatnot."

"But… where on the island would we put something like that?"

Arthur's voice lowered in secrecy. "Well, I was off campus last night, taking a gander at the other side of town, and I came across this secluded area, by the beach along the north coast. Half of it was entirely vacant, while the other half was filled with little shops and houses with "for sale" signs hanging in the windows. As far as I know, real estate does not yet exist in this corner of the world, but the shops could prove to work for our benefit. Er, that is, assuming you and Kiku would agree to something like that. I know tea is big where he comes from, but it probably isn't as important to you Canadians as it is to our culture."

"I'd be happy to help. As you said, we could make a lot of money, and it would be a good way to spend the evenings before our courses begin." Matthew grinned, taking a bite out of an apple before continuing on. "Besides, if _you two _are my colleagues, I might be able to tolerate it."

"Heh heh. Can you imagine having to go into a business of some sort with Alfred or Francis? Or maybe Ivan? I would sooner go bankrupt." An echo resonated in the background, followed by the sound of a screeching kettle. "Ah, got to go. We'll continue this conversation later, and don't forget to mention it to Kiku!"

"M'Kay. Bye, Arthur."

"Goodbye, Matthew."

The Canadian student pressed his thumb to the red button of the phone to end the call. He hung it gently back upon the bedside table, hearing the reassuring _click_ that it made when fastened correctly. "Kiku? Arthur wants us to open up a tea shop on the outside of town. What do you think?"

The Japanese man said nothing for a prolonged period of time, brown eyes distant as they stared absentmindedly out the window. At last, tearing his gaze away from the beautiful scene before him, Kiku turned his head to face his roommate. "I would be delighted. I haven't had a good cup of tea since I left my homeland." His thin lips gave a slight quirk upwards in what had potential to be a brilliant smile, but soon faded into a look of contention as he returned his attention to the sun setting along the coastline, dyeing the sea an abstract mosaic of golden oranges.

_The view really_ is_ spectacular…_ Matthew thought in awe, approaching his roommate to join him in staring at the warm hearth out beyond their reach. _The sunsets were never this miraculous back home, even living in a smaller town. Perhaps this is the start of something new and refreshing… a new chance to live our lives as we were meant to fulfill them. Maybe the Institute has a purpose after all; maybe it was meant to be a clean slate for those of us who hadn't been given the chance to live our lives to their fullest._

But, of course, that would be unlikely. Some of the students mingling about the campus- Francis and Gilbert, for instance- hadn't acted like they descended from some horrible lifestyle, nor a haunting past. Most of the applicants had been aloof and flamboyant upon their first day of life on campus. Now, nearly two weeks after that day, things had ceased to change in the slightest. Admittedly, some students adapted and settled into their new environments, warming up to the routine and outlay of island life. Most, however, failed to alter their actions and demeanors at all, and grew accustomed to their hectic ways of survival.

The majority of the classes retained their beta students as professors, considering many teachers still had yet to arrive or had resigned do to some falsely-spread rumor about the ulterior motives of the school board. The betas intertwined themselves into the habitual activity of the normal students; most attended the same classes (on their own schedule, as long as it didn't interfere with their teachings), some tutored their underclassmen, and a few had even begun to befriend and date the college students. Alfred had behaved ridiculously surprised one day to find out a little tidbit of information regarding his roommate; although calm and cool on the outside, the Greek man contained a natural playboy within. Although he had yet to bring a girl (or a boy, for that matter) up to his bedroom, Alfred had witnessed him romancing the betas and a few of the newbies on multiple occasions.

The American, thankfully, had not received a single call, text message, or email from his sire since his failure to answer his cell phone on the first day of classes. Matthew had insisted time and time again that this was a terrible omen; that his twin would return home day to find his father with a gun in hand, ready to shoot. Of course, their father, though cruel and chilling he might be, had never actually attempted to murder either of them. Luckily, the worst punishment Matthew had ever received was a bruise on the shoulder from being shoved aside whilst in the pathway of his male parent. Alfred, on the contrary, had received several bruises and cuts from bickering with his predecessor, as well as a long scar along his back from an incident that had morphed before his eyes, but never would he allow his younger twin to find out about such a mark. Besides, most of them were only acquired upon Alfred's rebellions against the heartless man.

What his brother neglected to notice wouldn't hurt him.

********

"So, we're actually going to exercise today?" Alfred questioned, following closely behind his brother as the group huddled into the locker room to change. "That's a first."

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Arthur mocked, coming to an abrupt stop by an empty locker. "With your eating habits, you probably can't even lift me!"

"Are you implying something, _Anglais_?" Francis inquired, a sly look masking his face. "Perhaps you want him to lift you?"

"Nah, I probably couldn't lift you," Alfred replied casually, a devilish smirk gracing his features as he chose the locker beside Francis' and Arthur's. "You're much too heavy for me."

The Briton's face glowered bright crimson as he whirled around to face the American. "Look, you bloody-"

"Enough, you three. Alfred's stronger than he looks, Arthur's not fat, and they aren't implying anything!" Matthew sighed in exasperation, suppressing a groan. "Why can't you three just get along? Hurry up and change into your gym clothes, or we'll be in here all night!"

"He's right, aru." Yao lifted his head, dragging out an old pair of shorts from his bag. "We don't all want to hear your complaints and innuendos, aru!"

Alfred rolled his eyes, scrunching up his change of clothes and heading for the bathroom stalls adjacent to his current position. "I'm going to go change in the stalls. Don't let someone walk away with my things."

"Why wouldn't you just…?" Arthur began to ask, then thought better of it and returned his attention back to the Japanese man and his Canadian acquaintance. "So… what do you to think? About the tea shop, I mean. We'll need a name, as well as some decent money to get us started, but as the year continues to expand, so will our wallets!"

"Sounds pretty good to me," Kiku remarked, smiling gently as he slipped a shirt over his head. "What sort of name did you have in mind?"

"I've got it! Why not call it the "Tea Panda Shoppe", aru?" The Chinese man had, evidently, overheard and suggested the first thing to come to his mind."

"Why "Panda", though?" Matthew asked, cocking a questioning eyebrow.

"Well…" Arthur gazed off distantly. "Perhaps we should base our name off of a location of some sort? I mean, after all, we live on an island inhabited by foreigners…"

"The _Manchester _Panda Shoppe!" Alfred called out from behind the concealment of the stall, sniggering all the while.

Gilbert guffawed a few times. "Why not the "Awesome Prussian Panda Shoppe"?"

"Could you two be any more self-centered?" Arthur's eyebrow gave a defiant twitch. "And this is a _tea_ shop! I'm not about to name our tea shop after a bloody panda!"

"What do you have against pandas, aru?" Yao challenged, arms folded across his bare chest as he undressed.

"O-Oh, there are nothing wrong with pandas!" Matthew stood his ground reluctantly between the two, shutting his violet gaze tightly in unease. "How about we give the shop a foreign name, then? Something in another language that sounds snazzy. Notice how each student here can speak at least minimal English? Maybe, because this s an Australian island, they wanted the English language to be the most practiced around here. That doesn't mean our shops have to be-"

"Something that's not in English? Well…" Kiku cleared his throat, slipping a running shoe over his petite foot hastily. "We could use the location or something in the title."

Arthur pondered over that for a brief moment. "Well, I did find this one available shop that would be perfect; it sits just beyond the sand of the beach on the north coast of the island. It overlooks the sea between us and Australia. Maybe we could give it a sea-related name?"

"There's a breathtaking view of the sunset from that spot as well," Kiku commented, following in hot pursuit of the others as they left for the gymnasium. "Perhaps a name involving the sunset?"

"What, like "Rì Luò"?" Evidently, Yao had been eavesdropping again. "That's Chinese for "sunset", aru."

"Or maybe the "Mar de Soles"? "Sea of Suns" in Spanish?" Antonio suggested.

"I don't know! Let us think it over for a while!" Arthur gripped his head as a splitting migraine overcame the tolerance of his mind. "We'll come up with a name on our own!"

_The people around here are all so odd…_ Matthew thought, allowing himself to wander on over to the treadmill in the corner of the room. _I don't think any of us are a bit like anyone else. We all have slightly different personality types… even Alfred seems distant. Come to think of it, he's been acting incredibly strange lately, even for him. I think there's something he'd trying to keep hidden from me. He never was a brilliant liar…_ _Why would he lie to me, though? We've never kept secrets from each other._

The very thoughts unsettled him to the point of great disturbance as he allowed his gaze to drift from his brother, who was occupied having a heated argument with Francis, back to the treadmill.

********

Matthew Williams wandered along the beach of the north coastline, relinquishing in the soft feel of the sand beneath his bare feet. The sun had once again begun its daily routine of hiding itself behind the horizon, only partially visible to the human eye as it cast an intricate design of rust above the island. "Hmm," he muttered to himself, taking a hesitant seat on the ground and allowing himself to sink further into the white sand, the waves of seawater lightly moistening the skin of his ankles as it washed itself ashore. "Everything is so serene out here. If only things could be like that back on campus… Maybe sitting out here can give me some inspiration for the tea shop's name."

A rustle of leaves sounded from behind, and the Canadian whirled around warily, heart pounding in his ears. A young woman's form walked out leisurely from the concealment of the shadowing trees, auburn hair blowing in her tanned face from the warm breeze of the island.

"Hey, wait! You're that girl from the first day of school!" Matthew resisted all urge to turn and run, what with the tense aura that emitted from her body. _She acts dangerous. Don't come into contact._ "What do you want?"

"Oh, just taking a walk." Her voice was all but inaudible, and her words seemed to blend together a bit near the end of her sentence. "I'm sorry; did I see you say something about a tea shop?"

"_See_ me say something?"

"I am deaf." That line smacked Matthew in the face, full-force. The Canadian teenager gave no reply at first, reluctant to say anymore in case she found it offensive. "I can read lips, mind you, but sometimes my eyes can deceive me as well. Yes, I can talk… to a certain point. I've become so used to it anyway that it really doesn't have much effect on me."

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude or anything. I'm Matthew Williams… the student from Canada?" Matthew blinked thrice before coughing into his fist. "Might I ask your name?"

"I-I-I'm… A-Anette Gray. You say you're from… Canada?"

"Yeah…? Why are you-"

"I… I need to go now. I have something to ask- I just have to go! Don't even think about pursuing me!" Her vivid hazel eyes bore into his threateningly as she spun on her heel and fled.

_What does she have against Canadians? How peculiar… Maybe it was my name, then? Did she have a close friend or relative with my name?_ Matthew just stood there, perplexed and utterly dumbfounded, as the sun set below the horizon and night substituted evening.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, she's significant. Don't forget the name nor the behavior: Anette Gray, country unknown, information unknown by readers.

Chá Yè Zhuān Guì: Tea Shoppe

**R&R!** Give me motivation, lest you want this fiction to go down the dumps! We haven't reached** 50** yet! I may not be able to update daily this week, so I need the motivation.


	10. The Ranniku Tea Shoppe

Arthur Kirkland withdrew a heavy-yet-pleased sigh, taking a slight step backward to fully admire his handiwork. At long last, after many strenuous hours of cleaning, organizing, and grueling work in general, his Shoppe had been purified to the point of pristine beauty. Admittedly, his hands had grown calloused and tender, flesh raw and puffing up in a scarlet rash, and a bluish bump began to rise atop his head (where the Briton had hit it on the cabinet). Regardless of such atrocious misfortunes, the Ranniku Tea Shoppe, whose name had been a suggestion by a certain Estonian man, beheld a glorious divinity… at least, in the eyes of the Brit. The name was rather fitting as well; "Ranniku" was translated, more or less, into "coastal". Besides, it was much more understandable and comprehendible than "The Merenrantakaupunki Tea Shoppe", which had been the suggestion from Finland. Most of the students around campus had the utmost difficulty in pronouncing the name, let alone remembering it. So, Arthur had come to the decision to dub his shop "Ranniku" instead, to save both himself and others the agony of attempting to spell or speak the dreaded foreign name.

"Ah! A rather attractive little café, if I do say so myself," he proclaimed to no one in particular, smiling somewhat arrogantly as the corner of his lip curled upward, revealing two rows of dazzling white teeth. "I daresay this is better than the one my family works at… well, at least, _nearly _better. Don't you think so?" The Englishman's head twisted around, gaze averting to his shoulder which, though it appeared to be no more than another clothes area of his body, propped up a small fairy-like creature, wings folded under herself as she snuggled deeper into the fabric of his uniform.

"It is pretty nice… Just don't overdo it. And don't forget about the other two who helped you with this. Are they coming soon?" She yawned into her miniscule palm, burying her tiny face into his collar.

"Of course. And don't get too comfortable!" he snapped, though grinning all the while. "They should be arriving-"

"Sorry we're late!" Kiku's voice rang out above the howl of the wind, accompanied by the faintest sound of Matthew panting as the two students rushed frantically over to their colleague's side. "Who were you talking to, Arthur-san?"

Arthur's smile faltered, his emerald eyes directing themselves to the side in mild embarrassment. "Er, no one. Back to the matter at hand; how does it look?"

"Absolutely perfect," the Japanese man commented, approaching the recently-refined building with instantaneous awe. Oh, how he missed those moments spent at home, sipping a cup of tea… How the nostalgia washed over him in that second, possessing him in a sentimental splendor. "It reminds me very much of home, back in Kyoto."

"It_ is_ nice." Matthew wandered aimlessly inside, pressing a slender hand to the glass door and sliding it aside gently, running his fingers admiringly against the smoothly-polished brass handle. Cautiously, he placed the slightest force upon the surface, pushing it gently forward to create an evident pathway from the entrance to the inner workings of the shop. His boots clopped against the hardwood flooring, a deep auburn-glazed maple, which matched the tabletops and virtually all other wood in the room identically. The seat cushions accompanied the walls in corresponding colors; whites, blacks, and faded browns. Back behind the counter, there beheld much more intricate scenery, with shelf after shelf of teabags and the mix-ins (sugar and honey and whatnot). Beyond the counter space, in a little room in the back (hidden from public view by a door), was both the storage room that contained more supplies, baking ingredients, and a refrigerator, and the area in which the three managers would converse and evenly compromise about money distribution and profit and whatnot. "Did you really find the time to do all of this?"

Arthur coughed into his fist, rubbing the nape of his neck as a bashful crimson crept to his cheeks, ears a shaded red as well. "Well, it's not as if it was all that difficult a task… but, yes, I did most of it. The paint still needs work, as does the horrid wallpaper in the back room, but it looks quite chipper in comparison to its previous style. Actually, a woman came in here, not too long ago."

"What? Really?" the Canadian asked, though his voice maintained a somewhat nonchalant tone. "What did she look like?"

"Auburn hair, hazel eyes… a bit of an oddball, if you ask me. She was clearly deaf, though she spoke without many issues, and she had this sharp, defiant pitch in her voice. Said her name was Anette. But, hey, I haven't a choice but to give her credit; after all, she came in here with Francis practically begging on his knees to spend some alone time with her. She bluntly told him to sod off. Ah, it's good to know that someone else out there can see past that frog's ways."

"Anette? " Matthew's tone rose ever-so-slightly, interest sparkling in his violet orbs. "She… she didn't tell you where she was from, by any chance?"

"Oh, you know of her? No, I'm afraid not… though, I'll admit, I didn't feel inclined to ask. She _did_, however, hand me a slip of paper with her suggestion for the shop name. It's in that blasted Francis' language, so I'm probably not pronouncing it correctly." Arthur winced mildly before continuing, emerald gaze drifting to the top corners of his almond-shaped eyes in deep concentration. "The Selistay Mosike?"

"Pardon…?" Kiku blurted out, casting an awkward glance over at the Briton as the attempted French rolled rather disastrously off of his tongue.

Matthew's chest shook with a light chuckle. "Mind if I see the slip? If you still have it, that is."

The Englishman huffed, thick eyebrows parallel with the floor as they drew a dark shadow across his irritated, fuming glare. "Here, just take it. Bloody French… always making things difficult for us with proper ways of life…"

The Canadian rolled his eyes, head swaying from side to side in an exasperated shake as he pried the flimsy slip of paper from Arthur's bony fingers. His gaze fell upon the words on the page once more, gears in his mind grinding as they struggled to make out the lettering, written in a quaint, fairly old-fashioned cursive handwriting. "Céleste… Mosaïque? That translates into something along the lines of "Mosaic of the Stars"… or is it more like "Heavenly Mosaic"? Although, "Celestial Mosaic" would make a bit more sense… Guess my French isn't up to par." He smiled innocently.

"Up to par? Didn't you live in Quebec for the majority of your life?" Arthur questioned, vaguely interested.

"Well, yes… but my mother never really used the French language much. After all, I'm not Canadian-born." Matthew's smile saddened, a melancholy shadow casting itself over his gloomy facial features. "My mother and I moved out when I was about five years old… I believe. Anyway, we traveled up into Quebec and lived there instead."

"Sounds like a tough life…" Kiku commented, expressionless all the while. "Mine was always a dull one, but yours sounds awful… as does your brother's."

"Indeed. And Mother's decease hasn't made things any easier for either of us…"

"How long ago did she pass on…? If you don't mind me asking, of course…" Arthur stuttered, wiping off the top of a table nestled in the corner of the room.

"In about a month, it will have been two years." Matthew let a prolonged sigh escape his lips before continuing. "Her death was so unfortunate… I really wouldn't like to talk about it."

"That's perfectly fine, Matthew-san." Kiku placed a gentle hand on the other's shoulder, squeezing softly in a comforting touch. "Besides, we should be heading back soon. We do have an exam tomorrow… Perhaps we could study together?" _It would help get your mind off of things, too…_

"I'd like that." Matthew beamed, rising from his spot in the wooden chair. "Coming, Arthur?"

"Nah. I've got a nasty urge to go out for a drink later. I'll see you tomorrow, I suppose."

"Are you sure you can get back by yourself? Don't get too wasted out there…"

"Are you blooming mad? I'm not going to get drunk this time…"

_I'll believe that when I see it… _Matthew flailed his hand about in a waving motion and headed out the door, shoulder-to-shoulder with his roommate as they began the trek back to the dormitories.

********

_"Happy birthday, Mattie!"_

_The developing, lithe teenager bounded forward, purple eyes aglow with a lovable immaturity. He couldn't help but feel his soul purify with intense glee at the thought of another birthday; after all, it merely meant another year sooner to his graduation. Following graduating high school, he planned to go to college, get a job, and maintain enough financial stability to get his mother some serious medical attention. Her condition was not horrible; limited to about five coughing fits per week, and it had occurred routinely for the past year or so._

_"It's Alfred's birthday too, mother. And why do still call me Mattie, hn?"_

_"Because you'll always be my little Mattie, so quit acting like a hormonal teenager and have some cake." His mother held out a plate for him, a thickly-cut slice of chocolate cake, deep mocha frosting spread in soggy globs along the outside edge. A bit messy, but appealing enough to cause Matthew's mouth to salivate, threatening to spill over his lips as he hungrily wolfed down the delicacy. The fork in his mouth retreated from its place upon his tongue, scraping his teeth as it forcefully exited his now-parted lips. "Wait a minute… Mother, we can barely afford to live here! Why would you buy cake mix and icing? It's a waste of our-"_

_"Because, sometimes, little moments like these are worth more than this world's weight in gold. Nothing makes me happier than to see your face, bright and smiling and-" Her breathing caught in her throat, a sickeningly-congested cough erupting from her rattling chest. The woman's frail body plummeted to the ground, hands clutching tightly at her aching lungs. Her windpipe whistled, breathing coming out in difficult gasps, each more painful than the last._

_"Mother!" he called out in distress as his mother's eyes, once a shimmering sapphire, clamped shut, head longing to the side._

_Her breathing lessened into a single, sharp exhale, and she fell silent once more._

_Her pulse remained, but in her state, perhaps death would have been a less-agonizing fate._

"Mother!" Matthew shouted, bolting up from his spot on his mattress as a fitful dream was gratefully interrupted. His breathing nearly matched his dream-mother's in heaviness- panting and uneven in anxiety. The entirety of the room had fallen dead-silent in the black onyx of the night, eerie and surprisingly unnerving. He turned his attention to Kiku, dreading the thought of awakening his kind-hearted roommate, but found that (thankfully) he had yet to even stir as his tiny frame snuggled deeper into the white satin sheets._ It's going to be another sleepless night, I suppose… Might as well enjoy it while I can._ Matthew released a stifled yawn, wiping his dreary eyes with the base of his palm as his other hand groped around for his spectacles. He tiredly shifted into an upright position, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose to hook comfortably over his ears, and meandered across the room and over to the familiar setting of the chair by the window.

_It's so amazing out there… The view back in Canada was never this spectacular._ Indeed, beneath this southern-hemispheric blanket of night, a startling, intricately irregular pattern of stars dappled the sky, free of the veiling streetlights or city clouds to blemish their true beauty. It was nothing short of breathtaking, each individual star as exquisite as the next. _Almost like Heaven's own little mosaic of light up there, eh?_ Matthew chuckled inwardly, violet eyes intensified in color and brilliance in the luminosity of the starlight above. _Wait… Heaven's mosaic? A mosaic of the heavens? _ Matthew's smile fell, astonishment and pure bewilderment plastered onto his face.

_Céleste Mosaïque? That's not possible… though it is rather fitting… There's obviously far more to that woman than I thought. I'm getting more and more curious about what she has to hide. What's with all of the secrecy? I mean, honestly, nobody cares where you're from, be it Portugal or Zimbabwe! Why does she have to be like that around everybody? Is she perhaps from a French-speaking country? Or does she just have a love for the French language?_

_Dear Mother in Heaven…_ he began, forehead appropriately placed in his palm as he spoke, exhausted migraine sprouting in his head. _I'm afraid that, while I haven't spoken to you in a few weeks, I'm going to make this short and to the point. There's simply so much to tell you that I haven't the time to say everything. I am doing well, and so is Alfred, I suppose. He still doesn't get along too well with Arthur or Francis, and it seems as though Ivan holds a pretty strong grudge against him for something, but other than that, he's been perfectly normal. I've had a surprisingly dull lifestyle; I mean, nothing out of the ordinary. The Ranniku Tea Shoppe was given a name, and should open soon. I hope things up there in your world are satisfactory as well. I bid you a goodbye once more… until next time, of course. Enjoy yourself, up in the Céleste Mosaïque. I do find that I have a better view of it here than at home, so expect me to talk to you once more soon. Goodbye for now._

* * *

A/N: I would like to apologize for my lack of updates. I find that I'm much busier than I was last week, and I've had writer's block on top of it all!

Hope this was satisfactory enough. If not, blame the writer's block. Ack.

Well, now we know one more fact about her- she can speak French. We also know the title of the story's meaning, ne~?

**Review, da~?**


	11. La vodka, il Rimpianto, e Sugo

"I'm tellin' you, Yao!" Alfred persisted, accompanying the Chinese classmate and the flirtatious Frenchman to lunch. "Ivan has it in for me! I swear, every time I glance up from my textbook, he's glaring daggers at me!" The American fished around in his leather bag, removing a beige sack, sagging slightly at the bottom from the weight of the greasy burger that likely held itself captive within the clutches of the bag.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think, aru," Yao muttered, grimacing at the sight of the moist sack lunch as he placed an apple and a potato on his tray of food. "I mean, he _is_ a bit peculiar, but I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it."

Francis shut his eyes, a blissful and somewhat unnerving smile gracing his full lips. "Ah, perhaps it's his own special way of showing affection, hmm? _L'amour_ can be a most fascinating thing, you know."

"I doubt that," Alfred said confidently, approaching the stand at which the condiments sat. "When he wasn't in the classroom, I snuck a look at the drawer in his desk. You won't believe what he had in there."

"What kind of things, da~?"

"A rusty pipe, and bottle and bottles of vodka…" His voice hitched, breathing halting instantaneously as the sickeningly sweet voice hung around the surrounding atmosphere. "I-I-Ivan? Is that… is that you?" His heart skipped a beat in anxiety, genuinely terrified for his own wellbeing.

Indeed, the Russian beta stood behind the three lowerclassmen, that horrid smile plastered on his gleeful face. "I suggest finding a nice, crowded area to enjoy your meals. Wouldn't want to make a scene in public, da~?"

"It's Ivan!" whispered a not-so-secretive voice from a few feet away. "Come on, Feliks, let's finish eating… quickly!"

"Oh, hey, Toris!" Alfred raised his long arm, flailing his hand about in a waving manner at the Lithuanian student. "How's it going?"

_Damn it, Alfred… You completely blew my cover!_ "Oh, hi… How are you? Sorry, Feliks and I have to get going now… Nice to see you again! Bye, Alfred, Yao, Francis, Ivan…" Sweating pouring from the back of his neck, Toris snatched his Polish companion by the wrist and dragged him away, Feliks unable to respond due to a full mouth of food.

"Huh, wonder what his problem was…" Alfred wondered aloud, scratching the back of his head in confusion. _Ah well._ The American glanced around, catching sight of another familiar face; his dear brother, Matthew, sitting beside Kiku in full conversation. "Hey, you two! It's been too long really."

The Canadian said nothing for a moment, bewildered by his brother's abrupt appearance, then relaxed and continued on talking to the Japanese student, all but disregarding his twin's presence. "So, as I was saying, are you _really_ sure about that? I mean, we only get a few days off next week…"

"I know, Matthew-san. It's just… I don't get to see my family often, and I was invited. It would only be polite to show up for the reunion. Please, though, don't destroy the dormitory room too much while I'm gone." The two exchanged familiar chuckles as Kiku rose to throw away his trash and Matthew rather violently stabbed his salad with a fork.

"Um… it's alright, Ivan. You can go now…" Alfred murmured, coughing anxiously into his clenched fist, which had begun to clam up with sweat. The Russian man just smiled with the aura of the devil, taking a seat beside Yao on the opposite end of the table as Francis plopped down beside Alfred with a full tray of various bread-based items.

"No, really, I think I'll sit here with you all today." Ivan withdrew a bag of his own, filled with nothing more than Pelmini* in a plastic container, a shot glass, and a sizeable bottle of vodka.

"U-Um… you sure do like vodka, huh, aru?" Yao asked, squirming uncomfortably at the thought of a drunken Ivan; most of the students were panic-stricken at the thought of the Russian beta as he was on a normal day… a drunken version could only lead to further horror, if not sudden suicide on some of their parts.

"Oh, it's amazing, really." Ivan poured himself a glass, bringing it up to his fleshy lips in desire to taste its alcoholic harmony. "It's also a nice way to get my mind off of things. It wards off unwanted acquaintances, as well." His violet eyes glinted with a certain darkness, sending a cringe down the spine of Matthew, whose skin prickled with the familiar feel of goose bumps.

"Unwanted acquaintances, huh?" Francis leaned forward slightly, sapphire orbs shifting covertly from side to side before continuing in a hushed tone. "You don't perhaps mean Natalia, do you, _mon ami_?"

"She_ is_ the most pestering, yes." Ivan took a pause in his vodka-chugging, and for the first time, the group got a true look at the beta before them. His striking purple eyes had dulled considerably from the first day of class a few weeks ago, now coupled by swelling bluish bags and wrinkles of exhaustion. The whites of his eyes had been thoroughly strewn with bloodshot redness, a likely combination of lack of sleep and intoxication. Such an outward appearance emitted an even more frightening façade, causing Alfred, whose hamburger was already half-consumed, to begin to lose his appetite; a feat achieved by only Matthew in previous years. "My sister can't seem to keep herself under control."

"Wait, hold up!" Alfred shot his hand up, though it was drenched in grease and ketchup. "Natalia is your sister?!"

"It's… incredibly complicated." Though still retaining the unwavering smile, his face darkened, a mask of disturbance overwhelming his expression and clouding his emotion with shadows. "Ever since she met me, when we were twelve, she has had this unhealthy obsession with marrying me. She moved back to Belarus that summer, and all the while she would spam my email and phone with pointless messages, all centered around confessing her love for me. After she found out that we both happened to make it into the Institute as betas, she wasted no time in getting a DNA test. Don't ask me how she got my DNA; I wouldn't put it past her to steal my hair brush, or break into my dormitory to shed my blood for her own sick reasoning. Regardless, it came back with the results that proved us to have been sired by two different men. We were no longer related, so she thought it necessary to buy a marriage ring and propose to me."

"And you denied?" Yao asked, genuinely interested in this obscure tale, although the story of her sneaking into his room to make him bleed disturbed him greatly within.

"She got me drunk on vodka, da. I accepted. Long story short, I found out a day later about my mistake and told her off, handing back the ring. She then found out about my attraction towards Yekaterina, and became a shell of her former self. It seems as though her obsession with me has her hell-bent on both wedding me and getting a sick revenge on the poor Ukrainian beta." The Russian man whisked the alcoholic bottle from the tabletop and continued to chug it down.

"Yekaterina? I don't think I've met her before… You say she is from Ukraine?" Kiku exchanged discomforted glances with the North American twins, still a bit uneasy about conversing with Ivan so casually.

"Yekaterina feared for her life. She fled back home about a year ago, a few months after getting selected as a beta." His violet eyes saddened ever-so-slightly, a mild scowl replacing his smile for a split second before returning to its original, signature grin. "The new Ukrainian was supposed to arrive upon the beginning of the school year, but they have yet to arrive. I keep hoping that she'll return some day, but it seems pretty inevitable, da."

"I'm sorry… really, I am, aru," Yao reluctantly said, voice coated with the mingling of pity and dread.

"Yes, well… Hey, American, don't even think about stealing any of my vodka, now that you know where I keep it stashed. Wouldn't want to have to use that pipe now, would I?" Alfred replied promptly with a nervous chuckle, shoving the rest of his burger into his mouth with edgy hunger. Somehow, it didn't seem like such an empty threat when the warning was spoken from the Russian's mouth.

********

"Ah, Mattie?" Alfred asked uncomfortably as the others began to leave from their spots along the bench of the lunch tables. "Can we talk for a moment?"

"Of course. What do you need, Alfred?" Matthew questioned, sipping a juice box tentatively at his brother's awkward tone. Very seldom did the American ever speak in such a fashion, and when this pitch of voice was put to use, it was generally regarding family matters.

"You know how we have that three-day break next week? And how Kiku's going back to Japan for a family reunion? Well…" He cleared his throat, averting his azure eyes to the ground. "You see, I promised Father that I would go back to visit him over that break. I just… I didn't want you to worry, so I thought you needed to know."

"O-Oh, right…" Matthew's gaze followed Alfred's, finding the tile flooring fascinating in that moment. "Er, just be careful. I don't want you coming back too bruised up, or anything."

"Don't worry; I can take care of myself. Besides, he only gets physically aggressive when he's drunk."

"I know… it's just…" Matthew sighed, fighting back the worried tears that began to swell up in the corners of his eyelids. "You nearly gave me a heart attack a few years ago, at Mother's funeral. As if things weren't hectic enough with our family, you have to show up, alone, with a black eye!"

"I never thought you worried about that so much… I'm sorry, Mattie. I didn't mean to alarm you or anything. Really, though, I'm more than capable of defending myself now." _And I'll defend _you_ if I have to_, he thought, determination gleaming in his sapphire eyes.

_Alfred stood monotonously beside the cold gravestone marking his mother's lifeless body's residence, an unreadable lackluster evident in his dull eyes. The teenager frowned in pure dismay, a shudder jolting down his back at the thought of his affectionate parent's form, so at peace within the thousand-dollar container (paid for, secretly, by Alfred himself)._

"_Alfred?" Matthew whispered, voice trembling as he placed a violently-shaking hand on his brother's shoulder. The vicious whip of a winter Canadian snow nipped ruthlessly at the American's body, tensing his muscles with frigid stiffness. "Alfred, it's getting too severe out here… the weather, that is. We should be heading inside soon."_

"_I can't believe her life ended in such tragedy," the older twin muttered, voice droning in monotone pitch. "The last thing…" His voice cracked as tears began to stain his scarlet, wind-frozen cheeks. "The last thing I saw of our mother was her body, hunched over in so much damned pain that she couldn't breathe!" He collapsed to his knees in the snow, placing a gloved hand caressingly over the tombstone in grief. "You can't tell me she lived a happy life! She battled illness in her last five years of life, and her own son and husband left her for the dust!" His body racked with sobs, a rather uncharacteristic act for the normally-cheerful teen. "I could have snuck you more money! I could have gotten her more medical attention… Her death is the fault of-"_

"_Her passing on was not your fault, Alfred!" Matthew snapped, a tear clinging to his eye as well, though he swallowed and continued. "Listen to me; the last words she spoke to me… after telling me something personal, she told me to tell you how much she regretted not being able to spend more time with you. And your money wouldn't have given us any more than we had now; even the local doctor said that any further medical attention would only prolong the inevitable. She…" Matthew fell to the snowy ground as well, wrapping his arms around his brother's waist in depression. "She would have died anyway, Alfred. You could not have done anything more than you had… and you came for her funeral. That's more than we could say for Father, is it not?"_

"_Either way… I would give anything to see her face, bright and smiling again." Alfred's sobbing ceased, chest shaking with settling gasps as he hugged his twin closer. "I can only hope that I can see her in heaven some day, I suppose. You don't think she's hold a grudge, do you?"_

"_Of course not. She even told me, a few years ago, that she forgave our father for everything that he did. If she could forgive him, then she has no reason to hold a grudge against her son, who committed no crime against her."_

_Alfred smiled softly, a saddened expression masked upon his face. "Hey… Mattie? Think you can do me a favor?"_

"_Hm?"_

"_Well, I'm a bit inexperienced, since Father is completely unreligious, but… Erm, do you think you could pray to her for me?"_

_Matthew ruffled his twin's hair teasingly. "Why don't we just go back to the house and get some cocoa, warm up, and I'll teach your how to pray yourself. Oh, but not until you've let me tend to your purple eye."_

"_Thank you."_

"I've been praying to her every night since," Alfred murmured, lifting his bag from the ground. "I assume you have done the same?"

"Well, I can't always do it every night, but I try."

"Hm." Alfred's smile fell, his glasses slipping down his nose ever-so-slightly. "Mattie? Why hasn't she answered me back yet?"

"Well… that's one of those miracles that have no explanation. She probably won't reply back in person, but through an act or destiny of some sort. I think she answered mine… Pretty recently, actually."

"Really?" The American's eyes widened, his face beaming in perplexity. "What was it?"

"I was accepted into this school." Matthew flashed him a pure smile, sliding his own bag over his shoulder. "I personally think that Mother gave me this opportunity as a second chance at improving my life, as well as that of others. I'm sure yours will come soon, if it hasn't already."

Alfred hesitantly returned the grin, readjusting his thin-rimmed glasses with his eyes aglow. "You're right. Who knows? Maybe Mother will be with me next week, when I meet up with Father again."

"I think that'll take more than a miracle." Matthew tossed his apple core into the trash can before following behind his twin on the way to class.

"You're probably right. But, hey, what's a hero without a little miracle work?"

********

"Ve~! Look, Ludwig! It's Lovino and Antonio!" exclaimed the Northern Italian, bouncing up and down in excitement upon discovering the location of the Spaniard and the Southern Italian. Feliciano tugged childishly on the German's sleeve, beckoning him over to get a closer look at the two said people.

"Feliciano, I really don't think we-" Ludwig froze mid-sentence, vivid blue gaze catching sight of Antonio and Lovino through the window of a "sold" building along the outskirts of the campus vicinity, bodies pressed sensually together and lips locked in a heated kiss. Thankfully, both were fully clothed, though the German felt compelled to end this before any more could occur. "Hey, you two! You're in public view!"

The two broke apart instantly, both blushing a furious crimson. The Northern Italian tilted his head to the side in confusion, and he absentmindedly tugged on his companion's shirt again. "Ludwig, why can _they_ do that in public? How come you always tell me not to-"

"E-Enough of that!" Ludwig hushed him, face reddening as well as Lovino came storming up to the two.

"Alright, potato-bastard!" The Southern Italian jabbed a tomato-sauce-stained finger at the German's broad chest, smearing some of the basil-filled red scarlet onto the uniform. "You have five seconds to explain yourselves or so help me I will-"

"The window was open! Everyone in town could see you two making out in there!" Ludwig explained, gritting his teeth in annoyance. "If anything, I just saved you from humiliating yourself again. And why are you covered I tomato sauce?" _Or do I even _want _to know?_

Antonio approached the German and the Italians, scratching the back of his head negligently. "We were just celebrating our new restaurant opening. We were going to make some spaghetti to celebrate, but things got a little out of hand… Hey, you mean Feliciano didn't tell you? He's the position under Lovino here."

Ludwig said nothing, neither denying nor approving of such an unfortunately-true implication. "Didn't another group of students just open up a beverage shop down the street?"

"Yeah. Seems as though a bunch of people around here are starting their own businesses already." Antonio placed an affectionate hand on Lovino's saucy shoulder, though had his fingers swatted away by the flustered Italian. "I heard that the American planned on starting a fast food joint, and that the Austrian beta was going to begin preparations for a much-needed bank."

_This place is developing so quickly… _Ludwig thought, expression unreadable as he stood beside Feliciano, who was promptly scraping sauce off of Lovino with a wooden spoon to add to a pasta dish. _I sure hope the cultures don't clash too much. People feel so strongly about their own customs._

A rare smile graced his lips at the sight of Lovino squirming away, accusing Feliciano of performing a rather "disgusting" action, and shouting in protest as Antonio teasingly poked at the ever-curious curl in the Southern Italian's hair.

_Let's just hope things remain at peace…_

* * *

A/N: More pairings, if you squint… which reminds me, you can keep requesting up until the very end, if you like. I'll try and at least imply friendly gestures between the two people, if you like.

_La vodka, il Rimpianto, e Sugo_: "Vodka, Regret, and Pasta Sauce" in Italian

Pelmini: Russian minced-meat-wrapped-in-dough meal

I honestly don't know when I'll update next. But, again,** reviewing** gives me motivation. Perhaps we can make it to** 60** now, ne? Care to please a young teenager, much too young to attend college myself? Then keep giving me input!

Oh, and for anyone interested, I have an upcoming fiction involving Lovino and a parody of a certain classic tale… Keep watching for more!~ It should be up as soon as APFAP is concluded.


	12. Magányos Unalom

Matthew Williams shuddered, vigorously shaking all inklings of his previous horrendous dream from his drowsy mind. In all honesty, he had emitted such a terrorized scream just seconds prior to that moment that he had felt compelled to reassure himself that his roommate was truly still in a deep slumber. Thankfully for both him and Kiku, the Japanese student had left for the three-day break the night before, as had many others, and was now likely on an airplane to Kyoto for the family reunion. Although many times had the Canadian student regretted not having a genuine place to call home, nor the family to fill that empty void held within, he had instantly rejected the requests for company by Arthur and Kiku. After all, intruding on another's personal family matters was considered indecent in his eyes, and Matthew wasn't about to degrade himself by visiting the former households of his companions.

As Matthew rose from his spot on the bed and over to the kitchen, clad in nothing more than a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers imprinted with a wide variety of maple leaves, a deep, unanticipated boredom welled from within his body, an emotion he had yet to legitimately feel since his departure from that old run down building he used to refer to as a decent home. He slipped his hand into the pantry, withdrawing a box of waffle mix and the must-have for every Canadian breakfast- a full bottle of imported maple syrup. Such mix was stirred and prepared hastily, as Matthew had full duties of the tea shop while his other two assistants were out of town. He had considered hiring replacements, only to find that most of his acquaintances had fled for home the first chance they had gotten. Decidedly, the Canadian came to a steadfast conclusion; he would weave in and out of the many pathways of the vast island and seek out virtually anyone he happened to pass by. Regardless of the two or three who would walk past him first, they would immediately receive full responsibilities of the shop, and get paid their fair share for the next three days.

All but drowning his freshly-made waffles in a thick coating of syrup, the Canadian teenager cast a thoughtful glance out the window, various subjects and inquiries passing through his mind as the sun rose above the island horizon. He couldn't help but wonder how his brother was getting by, though he assumed that the American was still pestering Francis and Arthur on the airplane. Most of the Europeans that were leaving for the break had been forced to travel to D.C. on their way to their original continent. He chuckled contently to himself, interrupting the unusual silence of the surrounding atmosphere, and stuck a fluffy bite of waffle into his mouth. The floury breakfast held such a divinely sweet taste… savoring the bite with full ecstasy, he swallowed it delightfully, and mentally reminded himself to thank the Belgian student for lending him the enthralling breakfast mix.

Matthew willingly polished off the last crumbs of the waffle, relishing the final syrup-laced bite with pure bliss before scooting the stool back and sticking his plate in the sink, coming to the decision that he would clean it off later. It was incredibly unlike the Canadian lad to procrastinate, but considering he had just endured devouring one of the greatest pleasures of all time, he felt it could wait a while. Violet eyes averting to the clock hanging above the sink, he retreated to his dresser and threw open one of the carved drawers, removing a pair of casual black pants and a dark scarlet sweater. Sighing in slight unease at the fact that he would have to work on a Friday, Matthew promptly stripped down and replaced his sleepwear with said sweater and pants, forcefully shoving the overnight-clothing into the laundry hamper which would, hopefully, empty by the end of the day. Yet more irresponsible procrastinating on the Canadian's part, but he disregarded all judgment on such a topic and instead advanced into the bathroom to brush his teeth and groom his messy ginger hair.

_Ungh…_ Matthew thought monotonously, gritting his teeth as an unwelcome yawn escaped past the barrier of his fleshy lips. If every morning, or every _day_, for that matter, was destined to drag on such as this daybreak had… well, truth be told, he knew not how he would survive the next three days.

For the first time since his arrival to the Institute, the Canadian student felt uncomfortably alone.

********

_Alright…_ Matthew thought with renewed motivation, chin raised high in determination. _I just need to find two or three more people, and then I'll be on my way. Just two more people…_ Never had he witnessed such an empty street on the island; only a single woman was within his sights, that same mysterious girl whose original location was unknown to all. Anette was hunched over a gutter beside the main road, cursing loudly as her left hand groped around in the hole for an unknown item.

"U-Um… Anette?" Matthew reluctantly approached the obviously-flustered woman with sheer curiosity, head slightly tilted in confusion. "Do you need any help with anything?"

Anette's head shot up in alarm, arm soaring out from the gutter instantaneously. "Don't startle me like that! I learned self defense a few years ago, and I could have really hurt you! Regardless, I don't need your help, so if you'll just leave me be, then I'll be just peachy on my own."

"No need to be rude about it. I get that you aren't exactly fond of me, but that's no reason to snap at me. I just wanted to offer my assistance." Matthew crossed his arms, though nothing more depicted his irritability. "Did you drop something?"

"No," she stated simply, returning her attention back to the gutter. Another few minutes passed before she spoke up again, sighing in defeat. "Alright, fine. Truth be told, Elizabeta lost some family trinket, and I found it in a basket outside of my dormitory. I was going to return it to her, since she had stated earlier that she had wanted to check out your new tea shop, but my bike hit a stone and the trinket flew from my hand. It skidded a bit before rolling into the gutter."

Matthew nodded in full comprehension, shoving his sleeves up his arms. "Alright, stand back."

"What? Don't- what do you think you're doing?!" she demanded, readjusting her beige cap atop her head. Matthew persisted, lightly moving thin form her aside. "Hey, don't you speak English? Wait, you're from Quebec, right? _Arrêter! Ne me faites pas usage de la farce!_" She coughed into her fist at the incredulous look Matthew had shot her before bending over himself and reaching down into the hole. "I-I'm sorry, I'm a native English-speaker. My French is incredibly rusty…"

"Is this it?" Matthew asked, withdrawing a small, tarnish gold pendent of some sort, embroidered with multiple jewels of varying types.

"Yes, that's the one." She hesitantly took it from his hand, shoving it into his pocket. She cleared her throat once before continuing. "Well, if we're both headed to the tea shop, I might as well accompany you. My bike's tire was damaged in the collision anyway…"

Matthew blinked, mildly surprised at the change of attitude. Assuming she was merely that passionate about favors, he smiled brightly in acceptance. "Sure thing. Just drag it along… You think Elizabeta would want to help out around the shop for the next few days? I mean, if she's not too busy…"

"I don't think she would mind too much… that is, if you plan on paying her a fair amount of money."

"Of course I would! I'm not that frugal…" Matthew muttered in that quiet, shy tone of his. He and Anette walked side by side, searching around for one more person to help out at the shop. About five minutes after the silent walking, Anette spoke up reluctantly.

"Hey… Matthew? What exactly did I say to you? In French?"

"Um… well," he said with a chuckle, remembering the ridiculous statement that had left her mouth. "You told me something along the lines of "Stop! Don't make me use the stuffing!". I think you mistook the word for stuffing, "farce", as the word "force", meaning force."

Anette laughed gently, face turning a deeper shade of crimson at the awkwardness of her failed French. "So I threatened to use the stuffing against you? Ah, that _is_ bizarre… Anyway, are there really that few people around here? I mean, we only get three days off. Is that really enough to…?"

"Not really. Of course, I don't have any reason to go back to Canada, so I wouldn't really know what it's like to be away from your true family for too long. I mean, I lived without Alfred for the vast majority of my life, but we kept in contact through phone calls, text messages, and email."

"I'm sorry about your family, but I honestly can't relate in the slightest. My family is vast, stretching all across my former country. I have two sisters, four brothers, a mother, a father, four aunts, one uncle, five cousins, three second-cousins, four grandparents-"

"Well, that blows my family size out of the water." The two exchanged friendly chuckles, both relieved at the ice that had finally broken between them. "Even before my mother's demise, my family was small. Both of my parents were only children, and my grandparents all died long before I can remember." He inhaled sharply before continuing on with a testy question. "If you don't mind… do you think you could tell me where you come from yet?"

She fell silent, a dark shadow cast over her demeanor. They arrived in front of the shop, and she uncomfortably threw the door open, revealing the empty room before them. "I'm sorry," she muttered, directing her gaze to the ground. "I promised the school board that I wouldn't tell anyone."

"But why-"

"Hey, Anette!" shouted a feminine voice from afar. Canadian and nationless girl spun around to meet the eager emerald eyes of a certain Hungarian woman. "And you must be Matthew Williams… the Canadian, am I correct?"

"That's right… U-Uh… we found your pendent…" Matthew stuttered, the presence of _two_ unfamiliar females a bit too much for his comfort. Whoever the third assistant would be, he would have to assure himself that it was a male.

"You did?!" she exclaimed, blatantly overjoyed. "Oh, thanks, you two! Anyway, back to the matters at hand… Matthew! You're one of the owners of the Ranniku Tea Shoppe, yes? Get me a blend of… well, whatever today's special is."

"And I want something nice and foreign. Get me a cup of the Assam tea, and add in a pinch of sugar. No milk."

"But I-" Matthew began to protest, but thought better of it. In truth, he was entirely unprepared for any tea brewing yet; generally, he, Kiku, and Arthur would get things ready for visitors by cleaning things off, reorganizing shelves, and emptying out the money in the cash register.

_Guess it'll have to wait…_

********

Ivan Braginski leaned into the chair of his dormitory, gazing distantly out the window in contention. Such a Natalia-free week would surely be spent in pure delight, yes? The Belarusian beta had gone along with Raivis to visit his old home in Latvia, most likely a distraction assigned by the school board to avert her mind from thoughts of pestering the poor Russian half to death over the three-day break. Though, in all honesty, Ivan found himself in a bored slump; when one wasn't filling in as a beta or drinking vodka or fleeing the clutches of Natalia Arlovskaya, what was there to keep oneself occupied? The weather was decently mild, and the air lacked its usual island humidity. But, alas, he found absolutely no pleasure at all in the great outdoors; in his mind, nature was just another excuse for an earth-bound Hell. As said previously, how should a Russian beta keep himself occupied in situations such as these?

Perhaps a chat with Toris? Whisking out his cell phone, Ivan battered each button with a muscled finger, impatiently awaiting the Lithuanian student to answer. Seconds passed, as did the amount of his life that had been wasted in pure boredom. A deep emotion of betrayal rose from within his chest, violet eyes blazing as a crooked smile spread across his frightening face. At last, as Ivan began to pull the phone from his ear, the other end picked up the ringing device and answered.

"Um, like, hello?"

Well, that most _certainly_ didn't sound like the Toris he had grown to torment. "Da? Is Toris there?"

"Oh, you wanted to, like, talk to him? Sorry, man. I totally thought this was my phone. Guess I should stop leaving my things lying around his house, huh?"

"Feliks!" came a furious yell from the other end; the familiarly hysterical voice that pleased Ivan's ears to hear. Nothing was more comforting in times such as these than the tortured shrieking of his old companion. "Feliks, if you don't give me back that phone-! Who's on the other line? Please apologize to them right now!"

"The caller ID says "Braginski". Like, who's this "Braginski" guy? Anyone I should know abo-"

The line went dead, lifeless as Ivan's subconscious had begun to experience in that moment of irritation. The Russian retained his dark smile; he would have to punish the young Lithuanian man later. Good to know that, at the very least, he would have_ one_ act of enjoyment later in that miserable day. Who else could he contact? Nonchalantly, he flipped down through the various names in his contact list, chin nestled rather comfortably in his other palm. Raivis? He was much too preoccupied with Natalia now. Eduard? He just wasn't as fun to afflict as Toris. Sighing gently, he flipped the phone closed once more before another voice plagued his mind.

"Ivan… let's get married…"

Such a torturous voice… Never again would Natalia's haunting, monotonous voice truly flee from the back of his mind. In times such as these, her tirades would play on repeat in one ear and out the other, continuously harassing his well-being and sanity… of what remained of it, anyway. Very few considered Ivan Braginski to be "sane" in any manner of the word, and those who did were often threatened into the act.

"Ivan…"

Again, that awful voice…

"I have returned…"

Peculiarly, it sounded as though it were not distant, but rather nearby…

"Marry me, Ivan~…"

Perhaps because it was not so distant after all. Ivan hesitantly swiveled the chair, muscles tensing up immediately upon hearing the newest sentence spoken from her dreaded lips. Indeed, as his eyes fully comprehended the scenery before him, he caught sight of Natalia Arlovskaya, standing maniacally in his doorway. Gilbert stood behind her, snickering in loud guffaws of laughter. "Consider this my revenge on you, Braginski!" the albino proclaimed, strolling leisurely away from the horrendous scene as Natalia entered the dorm room and shut the door tightly behind her.

"We will be bound in holy matrimony, Ivan. I promised this to myself long ago…" She briskly locked the door and met his eyes, her own azure orbs blazing with a lustful gleam. "And I'm a very trustworthy person. I don't break promises."

"Uh, er, Natalia… let's try to be reasonable!" His hands rose in fear as he retreated back a step, finding himself up against a wall as the Belarussian drew nearer. Uttering the first thing to come to his mind, the Russian stood his ground. "I can't marry you! I'm… I've already got a partner!"

That got her attention. Natalia froze, unwavering as her cold gaze bore into his own, a challenging stare broken only by the sound of another door to a dorm room nearby closing. "Really…? Who could have gotten your attention?"

Crap. He had yet to think that part through entirely, so he swiftly went through the list of acquaintances in his head. He couldn't claim his partner as Toris, because he was already taken by Feliks. Raivis was much too young, Yekaterina was in another country, and Eduard was just… clearly not his type. Who could he possibly…? Maybe a student of his, an underclassman? What underclassmen had he become somewhat familiar with? Gulping loudly, he spoke the first name to come to his mind. "Er… Yao! Yao is my partner. We've been going out for a few days now. A-And, in case things don't work out between us, I have a fallback list! If Yao finds someone else, I've compromised with a few other students to turn to them instead. Next on that list is… um… Alfred, an-and then Matthew…"

Natalia cupped a trembling hand up to her mouth, eyes widening in sheer horror. "Y-You… you mean I haven't gotten your attention for the past few years because you've been _gay_? What man can offer to you what I cannot? Am I really that intolerable, Ivan Braginski?" Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she turned away from him, fists clenched. "This _will_ get out, Ivan. And then your humiliation will force you back to me, I'll make sure of it. Or maybe I should take out Yao, Alfred, and Matthew, and then get a sex change?" Though her tone was sarcastic, the Russian wouldn't have put that last part past her. With those final words, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her in sheer disbelief.

Ivan sighed, slumping to the ground with his head in his hand, a migraine beginning to form.

Problem number one had been solved. Natalia was out of his hair.

Problem number two had arisen. Word was going to get out about his "love" for Yao, Alfred, and Matthew. Long story short, his social life was down the drain.

Problem number three had accompanied problem number two. Yao, Alfred, and Matthew _probably _wouldn't react to such gossip in a good way.

Ivan Braginski would spend the remainder of the day locked in his room, flipping through the phone book to find the three students' numbers to inform them of his dilemma.

And chugging down vodka bottle after vodka bottle, it would be a long day indeed.

* * *

A/N: A second, mini-plot to accompany the current goings-on with Matthew and friends. Requests for characters and pairings are still open. I realize some of them have yet to come up, but I promise that the characters will at least interact with each other in the plot.

_Magányos Unalom_: Hungarian for "Lonely Boredom"

A lot should occur in next chapter, so **keep reviewing** to get it up here quickly! I feel unloved…


	13. La Vérité Révélée

Ivan Braginski was, in modern terms, ultimately screwed.

The Russian beta had phoned up Yao, informing him on the testy situation that had just been thrust forward. The Chinese student had all but gone ballistic on the other line, uttering a few incomprehensible words before shouting various phrases in an indignant manner. However, upon further convincing, as well as some friendly threatening and blackmail, Yao had given in and agreed to go along with the scheme… at least, for the time being. He downright refused to endure moments of fake romance with the Russian man for the rest of his years residing at the island.

Contacting Alfred, on the other hand, was anything but simple. For one thing, the American student was very easily one of his least favorite lowerclassmen; he was arrogant, gluttonous, and had retained an obsessive hero complex, all traits which the Russian found detestable. Although, revisiting this topic in his head once more, he had come to realize that most of the lowerclassmen irked him to no end. After several failed attempts at contacting the annoyance through means of telephone, Ivan decided to save the task for later and moved on to the last name he had mentioned.

"Matthew…" he said, a bit uncomfortable with how the strangely-familiar name settled on his tongue as he spoke it. Had he ever met a "Matthew?" Perhaps that had been the name of one of his students? Still unfamiliar as to why he had stated such a name to Natalia, the beta cast aside his bottle of vodka and reopened the local phone book, which was considerably smaller in size when compared to the Russian version, and flipped through its contents, searching curiously for any inkling of the name "Matthew". He honestly had no idea who on earth owned such a dubbing.

Finally, after a few minutes of chaste page turning, Ivan's violet stare caught sight of "Matthew Williams" at the bottom half of the page, right above his supposed contact number. He released a monotone sigh, a bit uneasy about what he had managed to get himself into. Oh, why did Toris have to have a boyfriend? He would have easily given in to any plan that his Russian acquaintance concocted. Wincing, Ivan lifted the phone to his ear, listening in discomfort at the dual ring from the other end before a timid male's voice broke the rapid chiming.

"Hello?"

"Er… hello. I would like to speak to a certain Matthew Williams?"

"I-Ivan!" Well, at least the Russian knew that the lowerclassman was familiar with his superior. "What are you…? Why are you calling?"

"Look, I don't know who on earth you are, but-"

An exasperated sigh sounded from the other end. "I'm the Canadian. Alfred's brother."

"O-Oh." That still didn't ring a bell. Ah well. "Anyway, I need to ask a favor of you." And, so, the beta thoroughly explained his dilemma, an agitating silence erupting from the other end of the line. "If anyone asks, just tell them we're close, all right? I suggest you do it, even if you don't want to, because I don't want to bother cleaning up the mess afterward."

"E-Eh?!" Matthew spluttered, heart palpitating at dangerously rate. The beta had spoken such cruel words so casually! How Natalia had managed to fall head over heels for such a psychotic man… it was well beyond his knowing. "O-O-Of course, don't worry about a thing. My social status is pretty much a void to everyone else anyway." Most students grew much more outgoing as the year dragged on, meeting new friends and making fresh enemies. Matthew Williams, however, had a rather nasty habit of becoming more reserved and invisible to the world each week. Neither he nor his brother had ever been able to unravel the mystery behind _that_ one, but as long as the people who mattered to him could identify him, he didn't bother with introductions to other people… well, besides those made on accident, such as the one with Anette.

The beta's voice spoke happily again. "Oh, and Miku?"

"Hm?"

"Your brother's in the same situation as you are, regarding Natalia. I haven't been able to contact him, so could you inform him for me?" Matthew had a sinking feeling that this was more of a persuasive suggestion than an innocent inquiry, as the other questions had been.

"Yes, I will. Wait, you got him involved too? How many people does Natalia think you're going out with?"

"Good bye, Mildew," came the hurried reply, and the phone went deathly silent on the other end. Matthew placed the phone back upon the nightstand of the bedroom. It worried him dearly, though; Alfred not using some form of technology would, under normal circumstances, imply the apocalypse drawing nigh. Was his twin really that preoccupied with his father, or with the company? Squirming uncomfortably in the lonely dormitory, the Canadian student grasped the phone once more, reluctantly dialing his twin's cell phone number. Luckily for him, Matthew was one of the few people whom Alfred would answer without any hesitation whatsoever.

The eerie ringtone from the other end sounded once. Twice. Thrice. Upon the fourth time, Alfred's comfortingly-cheery voice blared from the other end, alarming Matthew with a relieved jolt. However, such ease was all too short-lived, as the familiar pitch of Alfred's spoken words told him that he had merely heard the voice mail.

Matthew's breath caught in his throat, fingers trembling as he clutched the phone in worry. For Alfred not to answer the phone for his beloved twin brother… well, such an occurrence had never happened in their lifetimes. Perhaps it was just a sick, twisted coincidence. Maybe his brother was using the facilities, or perhaps his phone's battery had run dead.

Somehow, Matthew had the most difficult time in believing these denial-stricken possibilities as he desperately dialed the number once more.

********

Meanwhile, back in Manchester, Alfred F. Jones was having minor difficulties of his own. Clad in a formal black suit with his caramel hair well-groomed (though the bit in the front still stood erect), he gave off an aura of superiority. However, in the grand scheme of things, the teenager felt no more powerful and dominant than he ever had sitting at home, dressed casually. Smoothing out the slight wrinkle at the breast of his jacket, Alfred exhaled anxiously and proceeded into the office of his father.

The older man stood about an inch shorter than his son, though they withheld the same shoulder width and muscular build. Said man bore absolutely no resemblance to his son whatsoever, save the often identical facial expressions. His hair, combed and well-kept, was a faded shade of mocha brown, aged with flecks of gray at the sideburns and a bit in the back. He struck the appearance of a forty year old man, though he was truly about forty nine, with youthfully scalding gray-blue eyes and a fearsome scowl. "You are five minutes late," he stated plainly, sitting behind his desk in a chair. His voice was hoarse, an aged husk mingling in with his vocals.

"I am aware, sir. I apologize for my irresponsibility," he said, meeting his father's stoic gaze with an uncomfortable wince.

"Oh, don't speak to me with such formality. What have they been doing to you down at that school, brainwashing you? Maybe you've spent a bit too much time with the professors… or maybe foreigners talk like that when speaking our native tongue. No matter." Alfred's sire smiled, though it had always struck his son as more of a grimace. "Take a seat, Alfred." He motioned to a wooden chair across from his own, directly on the other side of the desk's barrier.

Alfred sighed inwardly and plopped down, habitually bouncing his leg up and down in discomfort. "What was it you wished to speak to me about?"

"Ah, yes. It has come to my attention that-" The older man was rudely interrupted by the obnoxious blare of a cell phone, sounding from within the depths of Alfred's pocket. The older twin cleared his throat, averting his sapphire gaze to stare blankly at the wall beside him, wishing to be virtually any other place then where he sat. That ringtone had been specified to ring for one man, and one man only- his twin brother, Matthew, was calling him... from the area code of the Institute, no doubt. "Alfred? Aren't you going to pick that up?"

"Oh, n-no sir…" he stuttered, cursing within for his lack of confidence. Why was it that his self-assurance only dissipated around his old man? "That ringtone was set for this really aggravating product company pestering me to buy a new brand of soap. Really irritating, but I really don't think I need to bother answering it." Promptly, the phone's constant resonating came to a staggered halt.

"Hm…" It was nothing short of an incredibly unconvincing story, in his sire's merciless eyes. "I see. Back to the matter at hand. It has come to my attention that you have been spending quite a handsome amount of our money as of late. As you know, I have cut off all of your monthly salary, considering you waste it on Lord-knows-what, and you can no longer work here while attending the college. I would also like to discuss a certain topic with you, if you don't mind." The man rose, approaching his son in a casual stride. Alfred stood in turn as well, petrified by his father's slow movements.

"Y-Yes, sir?" _Damn it all!_

"Care to tell me something?" He neared his son, standing mere inches from actual body contact. "Perhaps why the Canadian refuses to pick up the phone when I call? Could he possibly have obtained a rebellious streak of some sort? Or, is it possible-" Alfred's phone began its awful, echoing ringing again, the same pitch of the same song as the previous time. "That the wretch has been with you, the entire time?"

Alfred said nothing, heart fluttering in uncontrollable rejection. This couldn't be happening… this simply couldn't be happening! Sweat drenched the back of his neck as he clutched his ringing pocket in pure terror, and he began to sense his own temper escalating.

His father continued. "And could it be that you have been lending _him_ some of_ our_ cash? Perhaps for the past few years, since the death of that insecure woman he called a mother?" His horrid voice faltered not once, tone even and almost nonchalant. And, from the close proximity, Alfred could have sworn he smelt the faintest scent of alcohol lingering on the old man's skin. "My own son… Did I not raise you from birth? I could have easily let you rot, but I fed you, clothed you, took you when that bitch got up and left with your rotten double and-"

"Shut up…" Alfred whispered, barely audible, as his fists clenched in attempted resistance. He had promised himself that he would keep his anger in check, as a true hero would never lose his temper, but found it almost unbearable in times such as these.

"Excuse me?" his father demanded, teeth gritted. "You will _not_ disobey me again, Alfred. Are we understood? You may think you're all high and mighty, now that you're no longer legally under my control, but you were hired as an employee a few years ago. I still own a part of you."

"Take it back…" Alfred muttered, a hot tear plummeting to the ground from his blazing eyes.

"What is there to take back?"

All of time seemed to stop. In a split second, Alfred's fist had collided, forcefully, into his sire's face, making direct contact with his jaw. The older man stumbled a single step backward, turning to face his raging son with an unusually composed façade. His son stood before him, teeth grinding together and hair now wild in his frenzied attack. His azure eyes were aglow in fury, though this soon morphed into a look of pure horror at what self-proclaimed crime he had committed, swallowing hard in unease.

"Hm. Seems you have forgotten your place, Alfred Jones." His father said nothing more, but once again advanced up to his son.

********

A day passed. Alfred and the others would surely be arriving by the next morning, so the Canadian knew for certain that he would have to get his task completed by the following daybreak. Matthew Williams wandered aimlessly around the library, gawking at the vast walls of books, all stacked in perfect spacing from its neighboring volume. It was certainly a sight to be seen, one of much grandeur and sheer magnificence. "It sure is something…" he breathed, meandering over to the section nearest his body.

"I doubt there will be anything of important use around here, but it's worth a try to look, right?" he thought aloud, curiously scanning the wall for anything that might assist him with his master plan. Already, it was September; three weeks had passed since he had arrived for his classes to start, and yet so much remained an empty void of confusion… about the Institute, about its people, about himself.

Yes… he would unravel the secrets hidden away by the school board. All he had left to do was wait until the fall of night.

* * *

A/N: Mattie has a plan! Guess we'll just have to wait and see what it is, ne? Okay, so the important events won't happen until next time, as the chapter would be a bit too long when including the dramatic moments. I like to try and keep my chapters somewhere between two intervals of lengths.

_La vérité révélée_: French for "The Truth Revealed".

Check out my new parody, "Lovino's Misadventures in Wonderland". Obviously based upon the classic tale "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland", we enter with Lovino… in a dress. Interesting, no? I need reviewers and critique on that one too.

**Review**? Make it to** 70**?


	14. Prowela

The thick blanket of midnight settled upon the sky overlooking the Island, enveloping every corner of the atoll with shadows of blue and gray. Within the heavens above played a mosaic of stars, dancing about in the darkness in unison with one another, twinkling brighter still as the night progressed. Glancing down from their shadowed world above, the glittering lights overlooked a young man, presumably a student of the Institute, cavorting about in the abysmal black of the night. His head was veiled by a deep crimson sweatshirt of sorts, hood drawn over his head in concealment. Only his brilliant eyes, pools of vivid violet, shimmered in the dim glow of the stars. Head darting back and forth in suspicion, the student swiftly made his way across campus ground, coming to a screeching halt as he neared the front doors of the office building; the one forbidden to most scholars, save the school board and a select few individuals. Disregarding such trivial matters, he coiled around the side of the building, the faintest sound of another man's voice sounding in the darkness. Who in their right mind would come at such an obscene hour? Sure, this particular, hooded student had done exactly that, but what motive could anyone else on campus possibly attain?

Holding his breath in anxiety, he snatched the nearest weapon from the ground, a long wooden board used in a self-defense class, and leapt from behind the wall, catching his student-sized opponent by surprise and forcing him to the ground.

Or, rather, forcing _them_ to the ground; for it was not just a single man who had advanced towards the school building, but two. "Uwah~! Don't hurt me, please!" Feliciano cried out, sniveling in body-rattling sobs. "Lovino made me do it! He said it was for the good of everyone! Don't h- Hey, it's that guy! Ve~! What are you doing here, Mr. Canada?"

The man beside the Italian grumbled in irritation, rubbing a swollen bump on his head from collision with the ground. "Damn it, Feliciano! I know you're not the brightest of students, and you don't have near my level of awesomeness, but I never expected you to rat us out!"

Matthew raised an eyebrow, lips twitching as a slightly disturbed expression displayed itself on his face. "Gilbert? Feliciano? What are you two-"

"Alright, listen up. Don't go snitching on us, Moo shu-"

"It's Matthew."

"Right. And don't interrupt me! I don't know what sort of twisted plan you've come up with in your fucking mind, but I won't let some simpleton get in the way of our master plan! Come on, Feli!" Gilbert snatched his crowbar off the ground, dragging his companion by the hood towards the entrance of the forbidden building.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Matthew called out, all but stumbling to the ground in a desperate attempt to catch up to the others. "I'm only here to find out the truth about this place! Please…" His previously-gentle voice contorted into a much softer one, if possible. "I need a key. Am I correct to assume that you have one?"

Gilbert's crimson gaze met the Canadian's violet in a moment of exchanged emotions. Sighing and rolling his eyed upwards to the colossal clock dangling above their heads, he pulled Feliciano back to his feet and urged Matthew forward. "Fine. Welcome to the club. But let's get something straight, Maru-"

"Matthew!"

"Whatever! Matthew, if you really have to join up with us, then we need to make an agreement. Place your hand over your heart." The Canadian obeyed obediently, raising a slender hand to his rapidly-beating heart. Such a simple, fragile thing, one's heart; easily earned and much more easily broken. But, perhaps, with the Prussian's words, his own heart would continue to mend some; as it was, nobody, in his mind, had a perfectly healthy heart, what with the tragedies endured throughout life. However, in the light of happiness and contention, the heart could continue to try and mend itself in some way or another. Gilbert nodded briskly, glancing over at Feliciano to make sure he wasn't running off rampant. "Feli, tell Mantu here the oath you had to take."

"Ve~! Sure thing, Gilbert!" The Italian gave an overly-zealous salute and whirled around to face Matthew with a childish look of determination on his face. "Okay, Matt! Repeat after me."

"A-Alright." Here it came; the motivational speech given by the two, swearing their souls into this group pact. The Canadian braced himself, muscles giving a mildly stiff flinch.

Feliciano cleared his throat and placed his own hand over his heart, smiling rather stupidly all the while. "Okay! I, Matthew Williams, swear that Gilbert Beilschmidt is, from here on out, my personal leader. He is much more awesome than I."

Matthew blinked a few times consecutively, wincing at the sheer foolery of such a ridiculous oath. Sighing with a heavy melancholy, he repeated the phrase in the exact words, as much as it pained him so.

Feliciano continued, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I also swear that I will do anything that Gilbert tells me to do, and I will brush him at a moment's notice!"

Matthew burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, sides heaving from the utter force of the guffaws that racked his body. Gilbert, in turn, placed his forehead firmly in his palm and turned to face the Italian, who was smiling innocently with complete negligence to what he had said.

"Feli! I said _rush to him_, not _brush him_!" Shaking his head in slight a slightly frazzled daze, the Prussian turned back to Matthew, studying the laughing man from head to toe with interest. "Hm. You seem pretty trustworthy. I won't make you say the rest of the oath. Hey… man…? Hey! Are you-" Matthew toppled to the ground, crashing against a bush aside the front entrance to the building. The rustling broke the midnight silence, and a loud woman's voice called out something inaudible from the story above. The superiors were coming… and the three students were still hanging about, one of which unconscious. "Oh my God! He's fucking unconscious! Feli, do you know mouth-to-mouth?"

"Ve? Mouth to mouth?" The Italian scratched his head, retaining his oblivious lack-of-knowing. "But… But Francis always said it was mouth-to-anals!"

"Don't listen to Bonnefoy, Feliciano. It's for your own good." Gilbert bit his lips, screwing up his face in intent thought. The sound of approaching footsteps neared, each echoing beat growing louder and louder still than the last. "Er… leave him here! They'll take care of him! Let's go, Feli, before someone finds us!"

"B-But he's-"

"Come on, damn it!" Snatching the Italian by the collar, he proceeded to drag him away, fretting about how unclean and un-awesome their escape had been.

********

_Matthew Williams stood in the blinding white glow of his subconscious, a hand raised to shield his eyes from the beaming luminosity of the atmospheric light. _Where am I..?_ he wondered half-heartedly, body exhausted and exceptionally weak from an unknown cause. He assumed immediately that the plan had failed, and continued to ponder his current whereabouts; one moment, he had been laughing uncontrollably beside Gilbert and Feliciano, and the next, he had begun to feel incredibly lightheaded, and-_

_A little gasp emitted from behind his parted lips, an image filling in the bleakness surrounding his slight frame. He soon found himself in a beautifully quaint little room, coupled with towering glass windows with soft maroon curtains. Centered in the middle of the room rested a grand piano, a brilliantly melodious tune, sad and genuine, wafting from its monochromatic keys. A young woman, whom he assumed to be around his exact age, sat before this magnificent instrument, fingering each key with skillful hands, decorated with various rings of beauty which surely matched her own. Matthew could see only her back, though he could tell by her cascading caramel hair and lithe figure that she must have had a gorgeous face as well. She continued to play her tune, dragging out each note with a peculiarly familiar melancholy, as a man of the same age approached her timidly._

"_Hello," he muttered softly as he bent down to place an uncertain kiss on the woman's lips. She gave in willingly, taking bliss in the sweetness exchanged between the two before pulling away._

_She laughed, a mature chuckle that sang to Matthew's ears. It sounded vaguely familiar, though he remained uncertain of why. "Oh, really! We've been going out for five months now, and you still can't kiss me any more convincingly than that?"_

"_Heh. Guess I'm just not the romantic type…" the man grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. She giggled again and placed another chaste peck on his lips before rising. "And yet you still run back to me. I'll never understand you women."_

"_I can see passed your shyness, be thankful for that much!" she retorted, teasingly twisting a finger in his dark hair. "Come on, let's go grab a bite to eat. Please?"_

_Her lover cleared his throat once, twice, before taking her hand and winking. "Oh, fine. But let me pay this time! Your family is suffering from a financial crisis, and yet you always insist on making yourself pay for the meals!"_

"_I know, I know… Which reminds me, do you want to come over to my dorm room afterwards? I mean, I have a lot of homework I could use some help on…"_

"_O-Of course… right, then." His face flushed, sweat all but pouring down his face. He whisked her along, leaving the piano untouched, un-played._

_The scene before Matthew contorted, morphing into one entirely new. He remained standing nonexistent in the same room, but this time, the piano supported the woman up as fresh tears of mingled joy and fright rolled down her cheeks and plummeted to the floor. Her lover approached from behind, placing a firm hand on her shoulder in question, clearly unsure of his girlfriend's reason for tearshed. "What's the matter?" he asked as she whirls to face him, snuggling into a deep embrace and sopping his uniform with tears._

"_I… I have something to tell you, dear," she sobbed, clenching the back of his jacket as if her life depended on it. She lifted her chin from its spot on his chest and gazed up fearfully into his eyes, panting heavily from her cries. "I'm pregnant."_

_And, in this moment, Matthew first caught sight of her face. He wheeled back in astonishment, dumbfounded by the younger appearance of those same friendly azure eyes, those familiar caramel locks… Tears filled his own eyes, threatening to brim over his eyelids and crash to the floor; before him stood is own mother and father, back in their younger days… back before his mother's death and his father's cruelty. The two college students up ahead held each other in complete disbelief, mirroring their son's frightful face in return._

_He had always known that he and Alfred were born by mistake… but _this_?_

********

"He's coming to!" Alfred shouted in relief, leaning over the hospital bed on which his unconscious brother had slept the past day or so. Matthew's eyes fluttered open, focusing in on Arthur, Kiku, Gilbert, Feliciano… even Ivan. His twin's gaze met his own violet eyes last, and, in that exchange of familiarity; the same hair, the same eyes…

Matthew broke down into a fitful sob.

He was later informed that he had suffered from the flu, but that he was now nearly perfectly off.

And the days continued to drag on.

********

"Oh, really, Matthew," Arthur said, worry coating his thickly-accented voice. "Why didn't you wait for us to come back home before trying to infiltrate the office building?"

Matthew and company stood in the gym's locker room, dressing out for a yoga-themed day, dreaded by the majority of the men participating in said class. "I know… but I didn't exactly expect to come down with the flu. My body is plenty healthy most of the time, but when I do get sick… things don't usually turn out so well." He shuddered slightly, coughing gently into his fist. About a week had passed since his admittance to the local hospital, and he had long since gotten rid of his bug, though the symptoms of coughing and brief headaches had yet to completely subside.

"He's right, for once," Alfred commented, placing a firm hand on his brother's shoulder with a small smile. "I would have stuck with you the whole way. In fact, once you're completely better, we should all try and break in! What do you say?"

Matthew nodded curtly, turning to face Gilbert for a moment, who was preoccupied discussing "awesome vital regions" with Francis and a rather flustered Yao. "Hey, Gilbert? Have you managed to…_you know_, yet?"

"Not yet, Mid-crew. Feli and I are getting there, though! We'll get to the bottom of this, once and for all! I'm not letting something as weak-assed as a flu virus stop me from getting what I want!" He shot the Canadian an overconfident thumbs-up before returning his attention to the heated debate with the Frenchman and the student from China.

Alfred's eyes darted left and right in unease, his glasses slinking down to the point of his nose. "I-I'm going to go change in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?" He proceeded to face the direction of the bathroom stalls, though felt a prompt tugging at his sleeve, forcing him back onto the wooden bench beside his twin. Matthew's grip persisted with a firm hold, eyes boring into his brother's without any inkling of mercy.

Arthur followed his fellow business-owner's expression, mutually understanding his intentions. "Alfred, you've been dressing in the stalls ever since you arrived on campus. He has ever right to be suspicious. What are you hiding? I seriously doubt you to be the bashful type."

Alfred said nothing, eyebrows furrowing in stress as he forced himself to look away from the cold, inquiring stare of his sibling. Matthew stood with his brother, placing both hands on his shoulders firmly and forcing his eyes into the gaze of the American's. "Alfred…" he muttered behind gritted teeth. "What secrets are you keeping from me?"

"Nothing… nothing!" he whined, rather unconvincingly, as he also met the disappointed and curious gazes of Arthur and Kiku. "Really! What would I-"

"_Alfred_! Damn it, tell me!" the Canadian blurted out, though instantly widened his eyes and placed a hand over his mouth. It wasn't at all like him, to blatantly curse and demand something with such vigor. What on earth was happening to him?

The American winced, an agonizing gleam catching his sapphire orbs. "I… I'm so sorry, Mattie. I just…" He sighed, smile long since forgotten as he reluctantly removed his jacket and shirt. He could hear a few whispered gasps emit from a few of the surrounding student at the sight of his body, and felt Matthew's questioning, horrified gaze against his half-naked body.

Patterned across Alfred's body were various scars and bruises, each more chillingly disturbing than the next. Perhaps the most severe of these haunting sights was the long scar, likely about a year old, that traveled from his collar bone, down his muscled torso and ending at his naval. Thankfully, most of these seemed a good year or so old, if not more, and many were beginning to fade. Regardless, it was a sickening sight, and each student reacted in such a way that depicted the devastation. Kiku had turned away, stomach feeling rather queasy at the sight, while Gilbert, Yao, and Francis had abruptly stopped their conversation and sat in silence, as if in vigil. Arthur had clasped a hand over his mouth, uttering a slight "God save the queen…" before averting his gaze to the ground and placing a hand on Matthew's shoulder.

The young Canadian just stared for what seemed like an eternity, until finally Alfred had slipped his workout shirt over his head, once again hiding the scars beneath a veil of cloth, so much akin to the veil that had been masked over Matthew's eyes about his brother's true misfortunes. "Y-You…" the younger twin stuttered, trembling from head to toe. "How long…? How long has it been since he's done that to you?"

Alfred couldn't help but grimace at his brother's hauntingly quiet tone. "There for a while, he had given up drinking and stopped the abuse, mostly. But when I came back over the last break, he had obviously been drinking again. I defied him, and… well, I received the bruise on the shoulder." Indeed, slipping the collar of the shirt down, a discolored splotch grotesquely colored his broad shoulder blade. "I should have known that I couldn't keep it from you forever…"

"You idiot… You mindless idiot!" Matthew whispered loudly, staggering forward from Arthur's firm hold and embracing his brother, shaking his head in disapproval. "Enough secrets… Please. I don't know how much more I can handle."

Alfred nodded, patting Matthew on the back comfortingly. "I was wrong, I know… now calm down, please. You know I get all choked up when you do, too. Besides, Sadiq will get wicked pissed when he finds out how long we've taken."

Matthew didn't smile, but instead lightly tapped his brother on the head in a mock smack and proceeded out the door. Arthur crossed his arms, flashing a trademark frown in Alfred's direction as soon as his Canadian companion was out of earshot. "Listen, Alfred. I don't know what's going on between you and Matthew, or your families, and I'm not about to get involved. I don't know about his past life at home, but he's obviously been through more than he's letting on, to the both of us, and to all else. I only know this; if you do_ anything _to hurt that poor, lonely man any more than he already is, I _swear _I will make sure you pay the price. And that's not a promise I intend to break, if my life depends on it." Matthew had become one of the only genuine friends Arthur had managed to make in a lifetime, excluding the fact that he and Kiku had also become pretty close. The Englishman downright refused to let anyone attached to him befall any sort of harm, whatever the costs. It wasn't that he hated the American; hell, he had even gotten used to Francis' company by that point. No, it was more than that. Perhaps it was Alfred's naivety and ignorance that irked him so; after all, judging by his class rankings, he had all of the smarts to make educated decisions, yet he was unwilling to use them in reality. It was nothing short of disgusting.

Alfred watched as the Briton left as well, leaving the American student in the locker room, alone as he had ever been. It wasn't that he tried to make foolish decisions; Alfred had always tried his hardest to do the best he could, for both himself and his Canadian brother. Perhaps it was because of his lack of proper parenting, or maybe it was his striking resemblance to his mother (in both appearance and personality)… regardless, he could never seem to do anything right, as of late. It was nothing short of frustrating, a frustration that drove him to near insanity at times. But, being Alfred F. Jones, he would just brush it off and cheer himself up instead.

Readjusting his spectacles atop his nose, Alfred's mouth quirked into a wince at the tender pain of his shoulder, the bruise beginning to rub painfully against the weight of his t-shirt.

It seemed it play out to be an incredulously long year… for everyone.

* * *

A/N: Oh, so sad! I know, Matthew isn't all that pitiable right now, but his story may or may not get worse, your choice. This chapter kind of gives way for all sorts of occurrences, so hopefully the plot will really begin to unravel soon... and as to why Gilbert is there even though Prussia no longer exists will be answered in time.

_Prowela_: Prussian for "Betrayed"

Review and critique greatly appreciated! I know it's asking a lot of you, but can we make it to **75 reviews**, please? It would make my week to know that I have 3/4ths of 100... plus, this is the longest chapter yet! Thanks again! As mentioned before, reviews are my drug; without them, I go batty. I had a story once, and I kept it entirely to myself. In the end, I wound up disliking it so much that I killed off all of the characters and threw it out the window (well, not really… that would be littering…). I doubt you want poor Mattie to die, am I right? Then review. Let me know I'm doing a good or a horrendous job.

Eh, I don't think I could ever kill off Mattie, even if I tried. ^^ My threats are all rather empty.


	15. Sexuelle Schlüsse

A/N: This chapter's more humorous than angsty. Yay happiness! We needed a break from the depressing moments, no? To be honest, I had never intended for this fiction to be so angst-laced, but it ended up that way. Don't worry, though; _most_ of the saddest parts are over… for now. They'll return soon enough.

Enjoy… this includes some FrUK and some USUK (both only if you squint, though…), as well as some implications of GerIta. Felt I hadn't given you enough fanservice.

* * *

"Alright! Listen up!" Vash Zwingli demanded, pounding a fist on the table to justify his point. The surrounding students shot questioning glances in his direction before returning to their in-depths conversations about negligible matters. The vast group of undergraduates, massive though not near the entire student body, glanced in his direction, looks of slight skepticism plastered onto their faces before the majority returned their attention to other, more important matters. The Swiss man furrowed his eyebrows, gritting his teeth before standing from his chair and cupping his gloved right hand beside his mouth. "_I said listen up!_ This is the first ever meeting of the first club of the Institute, and I expect you to respect the club council with the utmost-"

Im Yong Soo yawned rather obnoxiously- though whether or not this was intentional remained a hazy cloud-, interrupting Vash's imprudent ranting. "What's the point of this club, anyway? I'd rather be sitting in my dorm playing my new computer game!"

"You were brought here to discuss a very important matter," Ludwig stated woodenly, also rising from his seat beside a blatantly fuming Vash. The various conversations and bickering that had once echoed throughout classroom A132 silenced instantaneously, the sonorous tone of the German's persuasive voice catching their notice. "Now, if you've all calmed down, we have introductions to proceed with. This is Vash Zwingli, the student from Switzerland, my vice president. Treat him with respect, and he probably won't shoot you." A few chuckles erupted from the crowd, though most refused to take such a threat lightly; as it was, many rumors had spread throughout campus like a potent disease, particularly those about the mysterious Vash Zwingli, who was said to have attained a vast collection of weaponry (mostly guns) and kept the majority of the lethal objects within the closet of his dormitory room. Ludwig continued as the room once again sat in a pregnant silence. "I am Ludwig, the student from Germany, as most of you probably know. I am-"

"What, you don't have a last name, aru?" questioned the ever-curious voice of Yao, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"W-Well, I… that's not important, as of now. As I was saying, I am the-"

"But, if you don't have a last name," Francis persisted, oblivious once more to the fact that the German was losing his already-thin patience. "How can you expect to marry? You'll have to take your wife's last name instead… or your husbands, depending on your preferences."

"Th-That's enough of that!" Ludwig shouted, sapphire eyes ablaze in intolerance. Matthew took note of the abnormal blush that had crept upon the German student's cheeks and spread to his ears as he continued, concluding that Francis must have hit a nerve in his statement. "I am the president of this club, and I expect to be treated as such! Now, if you'll quit interrupting, I can continue explaining! Alright, first of all, most of you probably came here with complete ignorance as to what the point of this club is. In all honesty, Vash and I aren't entirely sure either. We would hope, however, to eventually begin using this club to further advance this Island and this Institute for the greater good. It is in our best interests that-"

"So is it true, then? You_ are_ dating a man?" Elizabeta inquired, smiling giddily at the thought. "Could it be, perchance, Feliciano Vargas? Oh, tell me, how are things going on between the two of you?"

Ludwig's face contorted into one of pure terror, and his fingers gripped his paperwork tighter. "That's-"

Lovino rose from his spot, fists clenched and ready to charge full-throttle, and he likely would have committed such an act, had Antonio not risen as well to restrain the infuriated Italian. "You're doing _what_ to my brother?"

"So _that's _what Feli meant by wursts…" mumbled the young woman from Liechtenstein, gazing at the floor with a slight blush on her cheeks at the implication.

"Wait, he's not at the meeting, is he?" Vash asked, murderous gleam in his eyes. "I already have to share a room with him; we're _not_ going to let him in our club! He walks around naked half of the time, completely oblivious to anyone else being in the room…" His voice lowered at the mentioning of such horrors. "I should bring a gun with me to meetings from now on."

"Sh-Shut up! All of you!" Ludwig groaned, fingers pinching the center of his forehead with combined exasperation and humiliation. "This isn't getting us anywhere! And what I do in my spare time with regards to any potential love interest is none of your business. Moving on, we would like to, first of all, discuss the many essential buildings and businesses that are required for us to live a luxurious life on the Island. A few of us have already begun to modernize the vacant buildings around the main core of the town. For instance, Lovino and Feliciano Vargas, as well as Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, have founded a restaurant featuring many Mediterranean dishes, with the addition of several pastas and pizzas. It doesn't have a name as of right now, but requests are being taken." A few of the surrounding students clapped, grinning in reassurance as Antonio shot them each a happy-to-please smile, wrapping an arm lazily around Lovino's ever-scowling form. "And, around that same time, another shop was opened a few buildings down. Arthur Kirkland, Matthew Williams, and Kiku Honda are all managers of the Ranniku Tea Shoppe, which makes its profit off of worldwide types of tea, as well as pastries cooked by Kiku and Matthew." More clapping rebounded off the walls, Alfred patting his brother on the back with a bit too much force. The three blushed deeper shades of red, smiling as well.

Ludwig nodded curtly before continuing. "And, in more recent weeks, Roderich Edelstein has been working on renovations for a local bank, which is rumored to open promptly at 8:30 a.m. next Monday." Again, that persistent, robotic applause. "But, this is still not enough. We have many more businesses that will be necessary for everyone's lifestyles. Anyone with suggestions, please voice them now."

A heavy silence enveloped the room, each student's eyes refusing to meet the blue gaze of the German. Finally, after many moments of quiet, Yao spoke up again. "Um… well, what do we need, aru?"

"That all depends on your interests," Ludwig replied, a professional aura engulfing the atmosphere. "For instance, Im Yong Soo may be interested in starting an electronics store, considering his _obvious_ love for video games and technology. "We could also do with a supermarket of some sort, if anyone's interested."

"But… Ludwig," Arthur interrupted, standing for his turn to speak. "If I may… well, I'll admit, there are likely many resources hidden around this island that have yet to be discovered. Unfortunately, we're not exactly living on the soil of a major world power. Where are we to get all of our goods, imports? I admit that would make things easier, but when taking into account the expenses and political unrest that would accompany it… do you not think it wise that we need a better plan?"

"Arthur's right, for once," Alfred piped up from his spot beside his brother. "While many of the Americans back in Manchester were astounded by the fact that an Institute like this was built, there was a pretty large number of them that thought it was a waste of money, considering the debt that so many nations are facing right now, and the poor economy."

Francis stood as well, straightening his coat out before speaking. "_Oui_. Back in France, there were many people who thought that the Institute was much too proud. They saw it as another America; just another nation looking for our money to turn against us when we really need it."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Alfred retorted, scowling. "I know that other countries hate Americans, not that I can really see why, but it's not because we plan on turning against everyone!"

"He's right," Arthur murmured, exchanging smug grins with Francis. "We hate Americans because they intervene too much. Not to mention their debt, their obesity, their nosiness…"

"Quiet, all of you!" Vash commanded, withdrawing a small pistol from his belt. "We're not here to discuss political opinions! Oh, quit your whining, Lovino. It's not loaded! Now, if I've gotten your attention," the gun was swiftly inserted back into his belt, shirt draped over it once more, "I would like to point out that we don't have to eat off of imports entirely. Australia and the nearby islands have a pretty strong tie to this place, and would send us what we want, mostly. So many of us have gotten used to living soft lives, snacking on artificially-processed junk." Many eyes drifted towards Alfred, causing the American to chuckle nervously before shying away behind his twin. "As long as we figure out what crops can grow on this island, we should pretty well-off. We can still import and trade with other nations, just not as often. We don't _need_ cream-filled cakes and freshly-born caviar."

"That doesn't even make sense, _mon ami_… But, you're right." Francis sighed, glancing sidelong at Arthur with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Although, cream-filled pastries _are _quite interesting for night-long-"

"You're absolutely vulgar!" Arthur snapped, shooing away the French hands that now reached out for him. "And why were you looking at me like that? We may share a room, but we've never done anything so loathsome!"

Francis said nothing, though he studied the Englishman's face for a moment before gasping, nearly falling backwards in astonishment. "You-! You're a virgin, aren't you, _mon cheri_?"

Arthur spluttered, coughing violently on his own saliva. "That's nothing you come outright and ask somebody! And don't call me your "dear", you sick frog."

"So you don't deny it?"

"That's completely-"

"Oh, forget it!" Vash yelled, slamming his hand flat upon the tabletop once more before storming from the room, swearing under his breath in irritation. Ludwig sighed, rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the crowd, who had once again started their incoherent quarreling.

The German sighed, placing his head in his palm. "Meeting dismissed. We'll meet again next week, and hopefully we'll get somewhere." Readjusting his papers adeptly, Ludwig turned on his heel and proceeded out the door after his vice president, eyebrow twitching in a rather disconcerted manner.

"I can't believe how horribly that went," Matthew mumbled, shaking his head before glaring angrily at the ever-bickering Francis and Arthur. "Oh, really, you two! Can't you at least stop arguing long enough for us to have a nice, civil meeting? Neither have you had any business criticizing America. Francis, why would it be any of your concern whether or not Arthur's had sex before?"

"Because, Mathieu," the Frenchman replied, genuinely foolish smile on his confused face. "If he hasn't experienced the thrill of lovemaking, then who am I to deny him the joy?"

"Who's to say that I would accept you?" Arthur crossed his arms, frowning as he followed his acquaintances out the door. "Sorry, but you aren't exactly my type."

"You have a… type?" Kiku couldn't help but ask, slightly discomforted by the conversation. He himself was a virgin, and he assumed most of the teens at the school were as well, by their bizarre behaviors, but some of the older students were a bit more questionable. After all, Arthur was twenty-three, and Francis was twenty-six… and something deep inside of him told himself that Heracles wasn't, by any means, pure either, considering he was an easy twenty-seven, was only in the Institute as a beta, and because of his distant relations to one of the school board members.

Arthur said nothing in reply, blushing a furious scarlet. "Of course I have a type, not that any of you are going to find out any time soon! As I said previously, it is none of your concern."

"Wait…" Alfred interrupted, holding his head in complete puzzlement. "Wait. If you won't tell us your type, does that mean that one of _us_ qualifies as your taste? Furthermore, you never did say whether or not you still had your virginity."

Arthur promptly kicked him in the shin, leaving him doubled over on the ground as he accompanied Matthew and Kiku back to the Tea Shoppe for their evening business. Francis lagged behind, standing over Alfred with a scheming smile on his face. "Ah, _mon ami_, that was not handled very smoothly. However, I do see a great potential in the way you've been thinking. Care to join me in my conquest?"

"What sort of conquest?" Alfred asked, still mildly suspicious about this peculiar Frenchman.

"Why, someone on campus must be Arthur's type, _non_? It's my full responsibility as his roommate to seek out this student and hook them up. And if he has some sort of crush on the person, then it will give us further information on his "type". I just need to come up with a plan that actually works. What do you say, Alfred?"

The American smirked, rising shakily from his spot on the tile. "I say that you're even wackier than Arthur has let on… but I'm in."

********

"You want me to _what_?" Arthur stood behind the counter of the tea shop, utterly perplexed at the strangely devious expressions worn over the American's face.

"Just fill out this survey. Don't worry, the entire student body is taking it. I'm not entirely sure what the final results mean, but Ivan said it was to be used by the school board for something." Alfred yawned, leaning against the counter, propping himself up on his elbow as he flailed the paper about in Arthur's face. "Hurry up and take it!"

"Oh, give me that, you blooming idiot!" he snapped, snatching the paper forcefully from the other's hand and retreating into the back room to find a pen. Shaking his head at the irritating stupidity of Matthew's twin-though he honestly had the greatest difficulty in believing the two were related in any way-, Arthur clicked the pen open and glanced down at the first question.

_1.) Do you find yourself more attracted to your own gender or those of the opposite sex?_

_What kind of bloody survey is this? _Arthur gawked at the page, gritting his teeth. He had the most peculiar feeling that Francis had some part in making this questionnaire. Did he have a preference between males or females? Well, he had always thought of himself as being attracted to the opposite sex, but the more he thought about it, most of the students at the Institute seemed to roll either way… And he _had _found a few of the males at the Island attractable, more or less. Come to think of it, he _did_ enjoy practices that many would consider… well, feminine. He enjoyed embroidery, and often did the laundry back in England when his mother was unable or his brothers had downright refused. Many had told him that he always acted as though he were PMS-ing, and, although this particular implication was impossible for many reasons, he would admit to overreacting to a few events throughout his life.

"Hey, Arthur?" Matthew's soft voice spoke out above the conflicting thoughts of Arthur, as well as those of his "mythical" companions, as the Canadian student opened the door with an empty bag in hand. "We've gotten a ridiculous amount of requests for that dark-brewed chai tea we began selling last week, and we've nearly run out! How many bags of tealeaves should I order?"

"U-Um, just use your best judgment," he mumbled, almost incoherently, as he stared blankly at the page. "Hey… Matthew? Do you think I'm homosexual?"

Matthew's lips parted to answer, though no words could pass his vocal chords. Instead, a low grunt sounded from deep within his skinny throat before coughing into his fist. "Um, well… that's… eh? Why would you ask me something like that?"

"Oh, no reason… just curious. I've never really thought about it before. I mean, I've taken a liking to plenty of women in my lifetime, though never really hit it off with any of them. And then your brother showed me something, and now I'm seriously beginning to question my sexuality." His face darkened, a much more vivid crimson splotching his cheeks.

"H-He showed you something that made you question your sexuality?" Matthew looked sincerely dumbfounded as he repeated the statement slowly to himself. "Oh my God! You mean you… and he-?"

"W-W-What? No, no! Nothing like that! No, just… just, no!" He shuddered at the thought, returning his attention to the survey in his hands. "Don't worry about it. I was just curious as to what _you_ thought. You're dismissed."

_Dismissed? Arthur's in the most peculiar of moods today…_ Clearing his throat and tugging at his collar in unease at his disturbing assumption, Matthew gave a curt nod and retreated out the door, passing by his brother, who was still leaning over the counter. The Canadian couldn't help but redden at the sight. Never would he jump to conclusions about relationships again.

Arthur chewed absentmindedly at the cap of the pen, filling in the "undecided" bubble. He would revisit that topic in private later. _Let's see… what's next?_

_2.) Do you prefer the top, the bottom, or the side?_

It was going to be a long afternoon…

********

"I got it!" Alfred proclaimed, waving the completed survey about in the air like a madman. He strode up to Francis, who had been awaiting his arrival in the bushes nearby for nearly an hour. "Arthur actually completed it! He filled out the whole thing!"

"Really? Wonder what drove him to actually finish it…" the Frenchman muttered, voice trailing off in thought. "Ah! Now we just have to read the results! Let's see…" Francis withdrew another paper from his pocket, unfolding it and smoothing out the creases. "This is the answer sheet that goes along with it. According to his results, he has a type "V" personality." Indeed, each letter of the alphabet had a slightly different personality type and its description written in cursive text to the side. "It says here that the soul mates of type V's tend to be type Q's. Therefore…"

"…All we need to do is find a type "Q" personality!" Alfred finished, pumping a fist in the air in success. "Well, that eliminates you and I, I suppose. I'm a "D" and you're an "A", after all. We're under the enemy list of the V's, along with type Z's and type H's."

"Oui, Alfred. But how are we going to find a type "Q" within the entire student body?" Francis sighed, running a hand rather flamboyantly through his cascading locks of gold. "This will prove to be quite difficult… We've already calculated that Ivan would be a type "X", and Matthew most definitely seems like a type "L". Feliciano would have to be a type "W", and considering the soul mates for those, Ludwig would likely be a type "B"."

"Alfred-san? Francis-san? Would you like anything to drink?" Kiku's gentle voice broke the silence, sounding from just behind the two scheming men, startling them both out of their (lack of) wits. "We do keep a bag of coffee grounds in the back, courtesy of Matthew. He knows you don't fancy tea…"

"I-I'm fine, Kiku…" Alfred stuttered, smiling softly at the foolish generosity of his brother; sure, he appreciated the favor, but at times Matthew was much too nice for his own good. "Come on, Francis. We should get going soon…"

"Ah, actually, Kiku, could you so us a favor? You see, the school board wants all of the students to fill out this survey, so do you think you could maybe put in your thoughts?" Francis asked, waggling his eyebrows in a convincing fashion. Kiku reached for it hesitantly before removing a pen from his pocket and filling it out. Even Alfred had to admit, he was shocked to find that the Japanese man had filled it out without a single query about the bizarre type of questions on the survey.

"Ah, I've done this test before, a few years ago. You found it online, yes?" Kiku asked, handing them back the filled-out survey. "I was a type "I", back then. What am I this time?"

But, alas, the two other men had already fled in an ecstatic frenzy, leaving poor Kiku slightly distraught as he retreated back to the front door, sweeping the sidewalk to brush away its decaying leaves.

"_Mon ami_, we've done it! Kiku must be Arthur's attraction!" Frenchman and American rushed hurriedly behind the Ranniku Tea Shoppe, glancing once more at the survey.

"He's a type "Q", and to a fault!" Alfred exclaimed, leaning against the back door to the shop to steady his beating heart. "Well, now that we know who Arthur's attracted to, what do you propose we do?"

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?" _Oh no. Oh, god no._

Alfred spluttered into his hand, breath hitching slightly as he gazed straight into the eyes of Arthur Kirkland, arms on his hips in questioning aggravation. "O-Oh, it's you, Artie! Well, um… eh heh heh… There's no hiding it, Tea Boy! We know all about your _type_ now! Don't we, Francis?" He cast a frantic sidelong glance at the Frenchman… or, at least, where he had once sat. Francis, being the sneaky and mostly clever bastard that he was, had slinked away upon the ignorance of both English-speakers, leaving the American to cope with Arthur's murderous intent on his own. "Francis? Oh, damn it…"

"My type, eh? And what, might I ask, is my _type_?" Alfred could hear the venom in the other's voice, wincing from the agony that would surely hit soon. "This has something to do with that blasted survey, doesn't it? All right, you wanker, spit it out! What do you know?" Arthur jabbed a finger at Alfred's chest, rather hard, causing him to flinch in distress.

"I-I-I-I… You're in love with Kiku, aren't you?"

Neither of them knew how long they stood in deadly silence. Many times had the American attempted to flee, only to be forced back by the brutal strength of the lanky Brit, who otherwise remained motionless. Not once did Francis return.

And, after about ten minutes of eerie quiet, Arthur burst into a deep, chortling laughter. Scratch that, he seemed to be cracking up more than anything, holding his sides from the laughter that racked his body. "Ah hah! You actually think… you think that I'm…? All because of a personality test? Oh, god, that's absolutely brilliant!"

"What? You mean… Kiku_ isn't_ your type?" Alfred's azure eyes widened, startled. "But, then… who **is** your type?"

"As I said before, that's none of your business." Arthur punched him lightly in the shoulder, though it came out with more brute force than intended, and pained the previously-acquired bruise that blemished his flesh from the uncomfortable moment with his father. "Oh, right, sorry. Regardless, you deserve it for butting into my personal business. As for whom my _type _is, that's for me to know and you to never find out. Now get off of my property, or I'll hit you harder." Crossing his arms and frowning once more, the Englishman stormed away, muttering incomprehensible things under his breath.

Alfred frowned slightly, irked a bit by Arthur's peculiar mood swings. The Briton really was more feminine in the eyes of others than he had previously suspected…

And, as the American walked back to the dormitories and the Ranniku Tea Shoppe closed up for the day, he could have sworn he overheard Arthur asking Kiku something along the lines of-

"Kiku, do you think I'm homosexual?"

* * *

A/N: Whoa. This chapter was mostly filler, and yet it's twice as long as some of the others? How peculiar… Regardless, input is needed!

_Sexuelle Schlüsse:_ German for "Sexual Inferences"

**R&R! What do you think; is Arthur homosexual?**


	16. Chapter 15 and a Half

**Chapter 15.5 –Why? Because this was much too short for a chapter, but would have made the last chapter too long.**

Anette Gray stole a fleeting gaze up at the stunning display of starlight above her head. A brief smile graced her lips, a sign of mild pleasure at the idea of the _céleste mosäique_ glittering beyond. Withdrawing a key from her pocket, the young woman proceeded forward, her eyes aglow with a gleam of determination, for nothing would prevent her from succeeding in her mission.

What _was_ her task? As it was, she had run into Matthew Williams once more the previous day, over at the local library.

"_E-Eh, Anette?" Matthew stuttered, overcome by the sudden shock of the woman's finger jabbing him rather painfully in the back. He nudged her hand away, slightly flustered as his glasses slid down his nose and onto the table before him. Scooting back in his seat, he slammed his book shut and shoved a wad of paper into his coat pocket, straightening out his uniform and placing his spectacles back upon his nose. "W-What are you doing here?"_

"_I'm a student here, too, you dolt," she muttered, rolling her hazel eyes up to the ceiling. "As far as I was concerned, this wasn't a privately-owned facility. Now move over, I'm sitting down." As the Canadian slid his chair aside, she grabbed another seat perpendicular to his own and scooted over, gazing nonchalantly down at his sizeable pile of books. Matthew's eyes darted downward to stare at his hands, a grimace of guilt plastered on his face. "Hm. Any particular reason you have so many books here about the history of the Island?"_

"_You see… w-well, I-"_

"_You're planning on infiltrating the main office building, correct?" she whispered, lowering her voice in attempt to draw attention elsewhere. Luckily, disregarding the student-from-Uganda librarian at the desk, the only other beings in the room were Berwald and Tino, who were preoccupied making idle chatter in the corner of the room. Anette cleared her throat before continuing. "Anyway, I wouldn't count on it working. I've been in there more than my fair share of times, and everything is kept pretty locked up tight. Are… are you looking for anything specific, perchance?"_

_Matthew sighed, resting his chin in his palm. "Not really, I suppose. I was interested in finding out a bit more behind the reasoning for this Institute, as there's so much we don't know. Why aren't the real teachers here yet? Why pick only one person from each country? Why not name the island first? Why wasn't there any information on me when I arrived, and yet Arthur had so much that he nearly died inside? Are there any plans to accept more students next year? What are-"_

"_Slow down, slow down! You worry too much! Look, I don't know the reasoning behind… well, most of those. But, either way, I don't really think it's our business knowing."_

"_Why am I even here, though?" he demanded, voice raising dangerously before lowering once more at the signal by the librarian. "Anette, I was never the highest of my high school class. I didn't even have enough money to afford community college! My mother died because we couldn't afford the medical expenses. Why would the school board fund for me to come here on a plane, enroll, and make a living if they can't even gather any information on my personal life? I feel… I feel as though it was a mistake, my being here."_

"_Don't say that. Pessimism is the first step towards a dampened life. You were brought here, were you not? So how could it be a mistake? You're over-exaggerating."_

"_And what did you mean before by "not knowing _most_ of those things". That means that you _do_ know something!" His violet eyes gleamed. "What are you hiding from me?"_

"_That's-"_

"_And why is it that you still refuse to tell me where you're from? It can't be that bad!"_

_Anette sighed in exasperation, clutching at her forehead with trembling fingers. "Will you just shut up and listen? None of that matters- where we're from, how much money we had-… None of that matters now! We are residents of the Island, and shall be for the next four years or so. We are a community; a diverse one, but a community nonetheless. Hell, compare your brother to yourself; he's a rich teenager from the USA with a hero complex and complete naivety. You are a poor teenager from the middle-of-nowhere Canada with a bit _too much_ knowledge about the world around you. And yet, so different, you two have managed to live here under the same sky for over a month. Regardless of where you are from."_

_Matthew said nothing, an echoing silence engulfing the atmosphere. At last, he skidded his chair back and swallowed, picking up each book and setting them back on the shelf. "Look, Anette. I appreciate your help, but I'm going to find out these answers. I know it's not very smart, and I know I probably just seem like I'm trying to fake courage, but I need to know what's going on with this Institute. Feel free to go along, not that it really matters..."_

And she had done exactly that- thus the reason why she now stood outside the main office building, in the shadows of the night, and unlatched the door with her brass key. Many times that night had she thought of herself as being crazed, desperate, insane- yet she managed to ignore all implications of such ideas and proceeded through the doors and into the shady hallway.

Never before had the student experienced such an unwelcoming moment than when she was lurking about in the building's corridors. As the rest of the island's structures, this one held no difference in regards to the same, bulletproof glass walls. Anette let out a long, indifferent sigh, slouching her shoulders a bit before advancing on, into the room nearest the front door. She hadn't the slightest inkling of what on earth she was seeking out, nor did she know what good it would do Matthew in the long run. Either way, something had to be found, lest her Canadian acquaintance lose his mind trying.

"Oh… what am I even looking for?" she muttered to herself, inching toward a desk sitting in the center of the room. _Nothing of interest here…_ she thought, shuffling absentmindedly through a stack of paperwork. Her eyes averted from their spot on those papers upward, catching a glimpse of a rather large file cabinet standing upright in the corner of the vicinity. _Hmph. A rickety, old-fashioned filing cabinet with a slightly rusting handle and a big dent in the side. What are the odds of something useful being in there?_ Shrugging it off, she trudged over to the cabinet, yanking open the bottom drawer with a bit more force than necessary. _Hey… these are all of the files of each student. I see… this drawer is last names S-Z. That means Matthew's files are in here… but, really, this isn't what I need. I already know more about him than he knows about himself…_ And, unfortunately, this was true, to some extent, and she had the school board to thank for it. She had agreed to work under the school board earlier that year, and therefore had become acquainted with a few of them. _What else could possibly help me…? Ah… here are some things of Bhaskar's, the lunatic._ Bhaskar was the student from India, a rather fidgety, clumsy fellow, though true at the heart.

From the drawer, Anette extracted a single paper, a letter of apology to the main head of the school board themselves. Her eyes scanned the paper warily, curious as to what it contained on its slightly torn pages.

_Please, sir, I apologize entirely for my mistakes. It was wrong of me to make such a clumsy mistake. You see, I was in much too big of a hurry, and I got a little too flustered. I don't really know how it happened, but I take full responsibility for my actions. I am sorry that this note is so short, but I really can do nothing more._

_Begging for your apologies_

_-Bhaskar._

Indeed, that was entirely too simple. However, Anette frowned and sat the paper back into the drawer, fully aware of what was implied by the letter and feeling it dampen her mood a bit. Bhaskar _had_, in fact, made a huge mistake, one which affected himself, affected herself, affected Matthew… in the end, everyone was slightly impacted by this error. But, alas, nothing more could be done.

A booming clang sounded from outside the door, and a signal of flashing light gleamed from beyond the room in which she took refuge. Anette, eyes shifting wildly about in teh darkness of the night, decided to flee, not in the least desiring to get caught.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's only a half-chapter. I've had homework overload this week, and have written both a one-shot and a collaboration in this amount of time. More of this will come eventually, just keep watching. Yes, this was meant to confuse you, but also to get you thinking a bit more about what could occur within the next few chapters. I've had some nasty writer's block as well, so this will maybe get me out of my slump, as a lot should happen in the next chapter.

Check out my collab project at the shared penname, L'Alleanza. It will feature multiple chapters of many pairings in honor of Valentine's day.

**R&R!**


	17. Ēka Bhayānaka Gupta

A/N: Um… 0.0 Fixed that little issue with Anette hearing something in the last chapter. Whoops, forgive me!

Chapter 16 (the real one). Enjoy!

* * *

_Dear Mother,_

_So much has happened as of late that I couldn't talk to you very much over the past month or so- I can only hope that you forgive me! Maybe I'm being too hard on myself… but I'm getting off track, aren't I?_

_I can't believe it's already been three months since my first day at the Institute! Time has flown by so fast, it seems… and yet it also seems to have dragged on- especially to Alfred. He keeps complaining about how much work he's gotten lately, yet he also whines about having far too much boredom when he does have free time. I think he needs to get a hobby or start a business or something. I mean, I offered him a job at Ranniku, but he refused right off the bat, saying that "Tea-brewing wasn't his cup of tea". He's normally so good at telling jokes, too… wonder what happened. Of course, I kind of understand his position. He and Kiku are pretty close, and working with your best friend can ruin a relationship, depending on your personalities. Alfred and Arthur don't exactly get along, either, though I think they would if they gave each other the chance._

_I'm getting off track again. Um… Speaking of Alfred, he left a few days ago to check on Father's situation again. Don't worry; I'm going to force him through a full-body inspection if he comes back at all flustered. Unfortunately, I don't trust him with things like that anymore._

_Let's see… I've been relatively fine, as far as school goes... My grades are doing pretty well right now. Gilbert still can't remember my name- he called me Mom-Blue the other day- and he and Feliciano have yet to successfully break into the main office building. Anette has tried on more than one occasion, though she refuses to tell me anything of real importance. I really wish I knew what goes on inside that muddled head of hers- why is it that women make no logical sense unless they want to? No offense to you or anything… I'm just getting sick of her keeping secrets from me. I still don't know where she's from._

_Arthur has been well enough, it seems. At least, if anything's bothering him, he hasn't been made it at all obvious. I really don't know what goes on inside his head sometimes, though. I mean, I know he was teased about schizophrenia in high school, but it_ is_ a little bizarre to walk in on him arguing with what appears to everyone else as the wall (though he claims it's a pixie, or a gnome at times). He hasn't asked about his sexuality in some time, either, though he hasn't gotten a girlfriend (or a boyfriend, for that matter)._

_Kiku has been acting particularly odd lately. He keeps staring serenely into space, to the point where it distracts him from his everyday work. He was pouring a cup of tea the other day and wound up drowning my bed sheets in chai (don't ask me why he was anywhere near my bed to begin with, because I have no logical explanation for that). When he gets sidetracked, his face often flares up in a red color, like a tomato or an apple or something. The other day, in fact, Heracles tapped him on the shoulder to ask him about a homework question, and Kiku had fallen off of his stool in a flustered panic. I'm beginning to think that something's going on between him and Heracles, but neither of them have realy let anything on about it…_

_Um… Ivan's been stalking me, to put it bluntly. He insists it has something to do with that thing he told Natalia, but oftentimes, he looks about ready to "stab the living crap out of me", to quote Alfred. I highly doubt that he would… in broad daylight, at least. Yao seems to have gotten pretty tense about it, too, and keeps a wok with him now at all times, just in case. He knows martial arts, though, so I don't really see much point in carrying around a giant Chinese pan… Of course, Elizabeta has whacked both Gilbert and Roderich with a frying pan on more than one occasion…_

_Sorry if this too heavily-centered on my peers. What can I say; I find that I know much more about them and their lives than I do of my own account. It's a bit unnerving, really…_

_Thank you for listening, if you managed to stay awake for the entire rant. Good night, mother._

********

"This club meeting is hereby dismissed!" huffed a weary Ludwig, dabbing at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. "And it's about time…" he grumbled under his breath, leaning against Feliciano for support. The Italian smiled in all of his childish naivety and proceeded to leave the room, only to get held back by the firm grasp of Gilbert Beilschmidt.

"Hey, Feli!" Gilbert clasped his hand around Feliciano's wrist, dragging him forcefully back across the room with Ludwig clinging exhaustedly around his slight shoulders. "Come here for a minute! We have to tell the others about our awesome escapade!"

"But I have to go home and make some more tortellini!" Feliciano whined, but followed in pursuit regardless.

"Hey, guys!" the Prussian proclaimed, approaching a small group gathered in the corner of the room. Instantaneously, his voice lowered. "You'll never believe what me and Feli did!"

Arthur crossed his arms, frowning slightly. "Feli and I, Gilbert."

"Pssh, whatever. I'm more important, anyway… Er, anyways, we finally broke in last night!"

"You _what_?" Matthew sputtered, violet eyes gawking at the two comrades before him (with the addition of a drowsy, oblivious Ludwig). "How? How on earth could you have-?"

"I've done it more than once, and I'm deaf. Why couldn't they?" Anette questioned, eyebrow arching in inquiry.

"Er…"

"Alright, enough, you two!" Gilbert snatched a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, unrolling it for his own eyes to read. "Here's something juicy we managed to find. _Dear journal, I met a lovely young lady by the name of Lucía this morning. She delivers my newspaper every morning, but today she stopped by to acquaint herself to me. She really_ does_ have the nicest body… _Jeez, what kind of perverse creep wrote this? Whoever he is, he must be important, to have Ms. Argentina delivering his newspapers. I'm stuck with that Indian weirdo as _my_ delivery boy… What's his name again? Bhaskar?"

"You idiotic git!" Arthur snapped, whisking the paper from Gilbert's hand roughly. "You grabbed somebody's diary! What use is this to us?"

"Feliciano's the one who grabbed it! But…" His gaze jerked back to the Canadian. "Actually, I found something pretty friggin' interesting about you, Milk-Too. Something that you probably ought to know… " Gilbert swallowed heavily, finding the words a bit hard to force off of his tongue. "You see, you aren't-"

"-Aren't supposed to check out more than four books from the library at once!" Anette interrupted, hastily smacking Gilbert upside the head.

"Ow! What the hell, woman?" the Prussian snapped, scowling in agitation and rubbing his tender head. "He needs to know eventually!"

"But that time is not now!" she seethed, glaring daggers into his crimson eyes. "Do you have any idea how important it is that things remain the way they are now?"

"Wait, you _do_ know something!" Matthew intervened, standing forcefully between the two bickering students. "Gilbert, what isn't she telling me?"

"You're-"

"Mattie! I'm back!" bellowed the obnoxious voice of Matthew's ever-flamboyant twin. Alfred stood in the doorway, hand raised in a casual waving motion and a smile plastered on his face. His sapphire orbs scanned over the image before him- Gilbert rubbing at his scalp, Matthew staring intently at the Prussian, and Anette looking about ready to murder somebody."Jeez, what happened in here?"

"W-Welcome back, Alfred!" stuttered an incredibly disconcerted Anette, grinning all-too-widely amidst her relieved gratitude for the American's rude interruption. "How'd things go over in Manchester?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow in return, scratching the back of his head in confusion. "Um… fine… Since when do you ever talk to me?"

Matthew grinned as well, approaching his brother to greet him with a brief embrace. "You'd better not have any more scars or bruises of any sort!"

"Of course not! I'm more than capable of taking care of myself!" His eyes darted upwards, fully comprehending his surroundings, and their living beings- Gilbert, Matthew, Anette, Ludwig, Feliciano, Francis (who had been unconscious for some time due to a blow from the Englishman) and Arthur. "Hey, where's Kiku?"

"Probably with Heracles…" Gilbert murmured, snickering, only to receive another blow to the head by Arthur.

"Oh, shut up, you! You have no right to speak for him. He could just be busy with other things right now… extracurricular activities of some sort."

"Ve~!" Feliciano piped up, smiling blissfully in thought. "Ludwig talks about extracurricular activities all the time! Especially when we're-"

"F-Feliciano!" Ludwig sputtered, placing a trembling gloved hand over the Italian's mouth.

Matthew turned to face Anette, a dampened façade upon his features. "I'm going to find out eventually, you know," he mumbled half-heartedly, releasing an extended, solemn sigh. "I don't understand what would be so important that I can't know of it."

Anette frowned, eyebrows knitted together in a mingling inner frustration and subconscious melancholy. Was it not her job to protect the many students of this Institution? Sure, she herself had been enrolled in the many classes, but the head of the school board themselves had requested that she remain mum about such topics regarding the private files of other students. _Oh, Bhaskar, this is all your fault!_ she grumbled inwardly, lips jutting out in an irritated pout. "Er…" she uttered as her companions- an odd group, were they not?- slowly shuffled out the door with complete disregard to what the deaf student was doing at that moment. "I'll catch up with you all later. I have… some matters of my own to attend to." Her hazel eye caught a glimpse of Arthur nodding curtly back at her as he and Alfred dragged Francis rather roughly out by the shoulders.

Anette peered around the corner, assuring herself that the others had made their departures, and sighed in relief. A single slender hand tucked itself into her coat pocket, withdrawing a sleek black cell phone. Lean fingers flipped the top open, revealing a brightly-lit white screen beneath its shadowy cover. Her thumb idly rammed against the all-too-familiar buttons, dialing the number of a certain Indian student. The phone erupted in an obnoxious ring from the other end- not that Anette noticed this, of course- and rang once. Twice. And, upon the end of the third ring, Bhaskar Mehra's voice spilled its fumbled array of foreign gibberish into the phone.

Anette, obviously, could hear not a single word spoken by the Indian teenager; however, her phone had been specially ordered over the Internet a year or so ago, and enabled the spoken words to be translated into words on a screen. _Hey, Anette. Any reason you're calling? And, no, I don't have texting yet._ Indeed, texting access would have made things ridiculously simplistic for the deaf foreigner, but, alas, this was Bhaskar to whom she was referring. While he was incredulously school-smart, he had an astonishing lack of common sense.

"Look, Bhaskar," she hissed into the phone, eyes narrowing in distaste. "We need to talk. And it needs to be soon."

_I should have known that you would never call just to chat. What do you want this time?_

"I want to discuss a rather… _touchy_ subject."

_What, the difference between candy bars and chocolate bars again?_

"No, you insolent dolt!" she groaned, knocking the back of her head against the wall in frustration. "Something entirely different… although, in many ways, similar."

_What, then?_

"Matthew Williams."

And the phone went dead silent on the other end for a good minute or so.

********

"Well, it all checks out okay, I suppose…" Matthew murmured into his sleeve, rescanning Alfred's topless torso with scrutinizing eyes. "Well, I mean, these scars and whatnot aren't exactly "okay", but it's better than I was anticipating…"

"You worry too much, Mattie! I told you there was nothing to worry about." Alfred slipped his shirt back over his head, rolling his eyes all the while as his glasses nearly tumbled from his nose. "And why do you care so much?"

"You're my brother! Why wouldn't I be concerned with you? Anyway, is there any particular reason you've decided to follow Arthur and I to Vinem Voro?" As it was, the three were strolling casually down the walkway, about a block away from the bar. Arthur had remained deathly silent the entire time, mumbling incoherent things about gits and perverted frogs and unicorns- all of the usual things, really. Nothing at all out of the ordinary had really occurred that evening.

Alfred grinned a wide grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I figured I could at least buy a drink or two, you know, to celebrate… and maybe buy everybody else a drink too."

"Celebrate? Celebrate what, exactly? And I thought you had your portion of Father's money taken away!"

"Nope! He granted it back to me, for the time being. And as for what we're celebrating… erm, I'm not entirely sure, honestly. I hadn't really thought about it. Truth be told, this was all Kiku's idea, and he never did tell me what the reasoning behind it was. All he mentioned was that it held some huge significance in his life, and that he would be honored if we came along."

"That's… odd. He never mentioned anything back at the dorm…" Matthew's voice trailed off as he averted his attention to his English companion. "Hey, Arthur? Did he tell you anything about this?"

"U-Um, maybe a bit…" A small smile, though one of mild discomfort grew upon his lips. "Regardless, he told me not to tell you two anything yet, so I suppose you'll just have to wait and see. I can assure you, however, that you probably won't be disappointed. And you _aren't _going to buy my drink, bloody American."

"I never planned on buying yours to begin with! Why would you assume something like that?"

"W-Why, you son of a-"

"Oh, will you two give it up?" Matthew intervened, fists clenched in the peak of his aggravation. "Alfred, quit being an idiot. Arthur, quit trying to pick a fight just to hide the fact that you don't completely hate him! In fact, you're the same way with Francis! I realize that he's perverse at times, but do you _really _hate him as much as you let on?"

Alfred swallowed loudly, blushing bashfully at Matthew's unanticipated outburst. The Canadian lad usually only blew his cool in times of sheer provocation, and the last thing the American planned on doing was angering his twin further- Matthew was absolutely brutal when ticked off. "R-Right, then. Sorry, Mattie."

"I hate the both of them, for Christ's sake," Arthur murmured, arms crossed in a rather childish pout. "For different reasons, but the vigor of my loathing is identical in both forms. Just let it go- we're here."

The Brit followed in close pursuit behind the North American twins, grumbling disjointedly all the while. Matthew had spewed a load of bollocks- he felt no emotion besides detestation towards Francis and Alfred. Albeit Alfred was, indeed, the twin brother of Matthew, and Francis was pretty close to the Canadian as well, things would never work out between those two wankers and the Englishman. It was against both their personalities and their origins- after all, the Briton population had a general dislike of Americans and Frenchmen. But, no, he certainly did _not_ feel, God forbid, friendship with the two… and certainly nothing stronger than acquaintanceship. No. He did not, he was sure of it.

And, as he and the twins maneuvered their way into the somewhat bustling bar, Kiku approached the three with an overzealous smile spread serenely upon his face. "Alfred-san, Matthew-san! So good to see you!"

"And you!" the American replied, laughing whole-heartedly and buffeting the Japanese student a bit too hard upon the shoulder. "So, wanna tell us what the point of this get-together is?"

Kiku inhaled sharply, bracing himself for the words that would escape his lips. "Matthew-san, Alfred-san… Heracles and I… well…"

* * *

A/N: *gasp* What happened between Heracles and Kiku? And what did Bhaskar do? Think you have any inkling? Feel free to voice your thoughts!

I'm feeling rather childish with these chapters… I know something you all don't! *shot* Sorry about that, I'm feeling kind of hyper-active at the time being. Forgive me; it's probably from lack of socializing. I'm mostly a loner, but when I'm away from people for too long, I start to lose it…

Oh, and expect a chapter of "The Eleventh Hour" up by either tomorrow or Friday! It's finally changing to "M" rated… not for sex or anything, though. At least, not right now. I'm not entirely sure what all I'll stick in there.

_Ēka Bhayānaka Gupta_- Hindi for "A Terrible Secret"

**R&R!**


	18. Unraveling Within Your Grasp

A/N: Alright, so I know I was supposed to update "Lovino's Misadventures in Wonderland" next, but I couldn't wait to get this chapter up. So much happens, especially in the end… **A secret is revealed!** **Don't you dare skip ahead and find out before reading the rest, little buggers!** And I wanted to treat you all to a little something, since this has gotten so many more reviews than my other stories. Many thanks! ^^

And I need you to tell me this in either a review, email, or message. Do you still want Mattie ending up single, or should I have him and Anette hook up in the end? It's up to the majority rule, so be sure to voice your opinions!

I would also like to know your insight on something- USUK, FrUK, or a triangle? I'm leaning more towards a triangle… what do you think? Or, to heck with it, we could make this a FrUS! xD

Enjoy and review~!

* * *

"We're-"

"Oh!~" Francis interrupted, awoken from his drunken daze on the barstool, glass of red wine in hand. "You're getting married? Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"M-Married?" Kiku stuttered, cheeks and ears tinted pink. "No, nothing like that at all, Francis-san. We entered a raffle drawing about a month ago, and we won a trip to Hawaii. We figured we would go ahead and leave in a few days, but we wanted to know… well, the package included enough tickets for us to bring a few extra people along. I would like to invite you three, if you are willing to go with me."

_Us three?_ Matthew gazed around, assuming that the Japanese student was referring to himself, Alfred, and Arthur. "Well… I don't know. I would, but I already have so much class work to get around to finishing, and I really don't take well to the beach. I mean, I used to live in Canada, and there's not exactly a vast coastline up there. I also sunburn pretty easily. I'll think about it, but…"

"Oh, come on, Mattie!" Alfred clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder, a bit too strongly, and flashed him a wide grin. "It'll be a blast! You haven't been to a beach since you went with me five years ago! And this is _Hawaii_- it's supposed to be better than Florida was."

"Hawaii imports its sand," Arthur commented, frowning slightly. "It's not naturally such a beautiful place. However… even if it means putting up with your antics, I think I'll accompany Kiku as well. It'll be a pleasant experience to take a break and relax, for once. The occurrences on this island all get me so tense."

Matthew pondered over it once more, readjusting his spectacles upon the bridge of his nose. "Well… I'm sorry, Kiku, really. I just wouldn't feel too comfortable. Maybe we can all go later in the year or something- after all, cold weather hits here around June, give or take a month." He smiled reassuringly and turned his attention to the bartender, ordering a single shot. "Besides, I can tend to the Tea Shoppe while you and Arthur are away again."

"You really need to get out more, Mattie. But, if that's what you want…" Alfred jutted his lip out in a slight pout before his everlasting grin returned once more. "Hey, looks like it's just you me and you two, huh?" He grasped both Kiku and Arthur in a bear hug, not relinquishing his hold for a good minute or so.

"G-Get off of me!" Arthur hissed, batting the American away. "And it's "You two and I", grammatical idiot."

"And… and it won't just be us three. Heracles is going, and…" Kiku coughed into his fist, averting his gaze to the ground in mild discomfort. "Er… he's bringing his cats."

Alfred froze, utterly paralyzed at the mentioning of his feline-obsessed roommate. "All twenty-two?"

"_Hai_."

And Matthew had never been so relieved to know that he wasn't going along.

********

_Dear Mother…_ he began, sitting upright on his mattress. _Alfred, Kiku, Arthur, and Heracles (plus the cats) all left this morning for Hawaii. I'm actually pretty relieved to know that I decided not to go. I have so much homework to finish, not to mention Anette asked for tutoring this evening… Do I do too much for my friends? Perhaps it is so… Ah! Feliciano, Lovino, and Antonio are having some big sale over at their restaurant tomorrow. I can't decide if I should go or not- I haven't had Italian food in the longest time, but they _are_ Ranniku's only main competition. What would you do? If you can, by any chance, send me a message of some sort, it would be greatly appreciated. If not… Then I suppose I'll talk to you again in a day or so. Good bye, Mother._

Matthew Williams released a gentle sigh, leaning his weight exhaustedly against the head frame of the bed. Scattered in a messy array atop his bedspread were his various research papers, assignments, and project rubrics, all splayed across disheveled satin sheets and making comfortable sitting very near impossible. Already the sun had begun to set, casting a brilliantly-warm glow through the glass wall and tempering the entire dorm room in its heated embrace. _I should probably head on over to Anette's place for a while, in case she needs more tutoring than she's let on._

Promptly, the Canadian student rose from his spot, cautiously maneuvering around his strewn sheets of paper, and snatched his boots from the mat in front of the door, slipping them on and proceeding out the door. _It's so much warmer here in November… _he noticed, locking the door behind him with a flick of his wrist. _Definitely not Quebec, heh._

"Ah, Mathieu!" rang out a voice from ahead him. Francis stood not eight feet away, just outside Anette's dormitory room, waving flamboyantly in his direction. "_Comment allez-vous aujourd'hui?_"

"_Je me porte bien. Que faites-vous –"_ Matthew's voice was cut off uncouthly by a loud bang, soon followed by the deaf female exiting her dorm room, glowering with seething fury.

Anette neared the Frenchman's face, teeth gritted in irritation. "_Sors de ma chambre_!" she snapped, ushering Matthew inside before shutting the door forcefully in Francis' face. "Sorry about that, Matthew. The perverted bastard was trying to break into my dormitory- he and my roommate are pretty touchy-feely with each other. Thankfully, my roommate- you know, that girl from Seychelles?- is out shopping tonight. So… ready to tutor me?"

"I suppose…" Matthew grumbled, still a bit sore about Anette's lack of sharing her secretive knowledge with him. Really, though- what could possibly be so important that he could never know about? It was thoroughly intriguing, and he would stop at nothing until he, eventually, found out the truth. "How about we make a deal? I know this is a bit unlike me, but please bear with me. Here it is; I'll tutor you and assure you at least a B+ in Debate Class _if_ you're willing to take me with you to infiltrate the main office building."

The silence that followed was almost unbearable, the only noise sounding in the calm being Anette's unnerved fingers tapping subconsciously against the wall. Finally, she spoke, softly but sternly. "I can agree to that. But you are to stay in my sight at all times."

"Hm. I guess that's good enough." Matthew's violet eyes narrowed, and a frown spread upon his face at the thought. But, perhaps just this one, he could do the distasteful thing and avoid her upon her lack of alertness. "Shall we go?"

"After dark."

********

Night had taken much longer to fall than the normality- or, at least, so it seemed for the Canadian. Maybe it was just his impatience, but something definitely lagged on about his waiting time. Regardless, nine o'clock eventually struck upon the grand clock upon the front office building, signaling their departure from the dormitories and towards their destination.

"Alright," she whispered as she expertly unlocked the front doors with her spare key (nobody expected her to break into the building when hiring her for the job). "You are to follow close behind me. You're going to act as my ears while we're in the middlemost section. And you aren't to stray from your path, lest you have some sick death wish. Are we clear?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am…" he stammered, palms clamming up from the queasy feeling churning deep within his gut. Surely she wasn't serious about that death wish? "Anything in particular you're looking for?"

She didn't respond, gaze fixated ahead in desperate attempt to adjust to the darkness. Matthew shook his head, slightly embarrassed by himself- she was deaf, there was no way for her to read his lips in the pitch black night. But, then again, if she couldn't hear him…

He allowed them to continue along the corridors, following closely at her heels and groping around for a flashlight or some other sort of light to no avail. There they stood- two teenagers, all but raring for trouble, sneaking about as darkened silhouettes beneath the starry sky. Matthew allowed his mind to wander, considering he hadn't the slightest idea of their destination. He focused mainly on Anette, pondering curiously about her origin. The facts? Well, she knew a bit of French, but it clearly wasn't her native tongue- after all, she had referred to "force" as "farce (the French word for "stuffing") upon their first real interaction. And then, a few days ago, she hadn't the slightest idea what Francis was talking about when he mentioned eating some "_terrine_". This made it plenty obvious that she wasn't from France, and he knew she couldn't have been from Seychelles. He already knew the students from both Belgium and Cameroon. The Haitian student was a beta, and the applicant from Mali was a twenty-three-year-old man. Although, there were many more French-speaking countries of the world. And maybe that wasn't her native language at all- after all, French was offered to Alfred back in Manchester, though he took German instead, as it was the "language of bankers" or something of the sort.

And then there was her accent when she spoke- well, it wasn't all that unfamiliar, but he had a bit of trouble placing it. It wasn't American English, and certainly wasn't British English. Besides, Arthur and Alfred were here from those two countries. Australian English was out of the question- the Australian scholar was on vacation, but still attended the school on most days. All of this thinking struck the Canadian with a heavy headache, so he pushed the thought aside for the time being…

…Only to find that, in his deep thinking, he had managed to lose sight of Anette- which, perhaps, was the better thing to have happened. This at least assured him the opportunity to go out exploring for himself. He wandered somewhat aimlessly around the halls, finally deciding upon a single room labeled "Confiscated Files and Items". Well, not the most formal of signs, but it was satisfactory enough for his liking, so the Canadian proceeded to seek out some sort of inkling of what he wanted to know. After all, there was so much he didn't know- about himself, about Anette, about the Institute itself- that it gave his fingers an ecstatic tremble as he shut the door silently behind him.

_Let's see here… Anything of interest? I don't need to know about this sort of thing…_ He shuffled around the room, shifting a stack of papers to the side as he advanced upon a box in the corner of the room. _Wonder what's in here. Hey, it's labeled "Confiscated Objects and Contraband, non-provisions". Guess this is a box of stuff that the school board had to take away from students for different reasons. Wonder if there's anything of interest…_ He slid the lid backwards and onto the floor, digging through the various items with anxious fingers. And varied they were- the objects included, but were not by any means limited to, a vial with some sort of acidic-looking liquid in it, one of Vash's guns, a bag of cat food, and a pack of Cuban cigars with some of the acidic liquid coated upon their lengths. _Hm. Nothing useful in here, I suppose… Hey, wait, what's this? A diary or some sort? What, like that weird one that Gilbert had grabbed? It has Anette's name on it! _He knew, deep within his swelling heart, how wrong and sinful it would be to sneak a peek inside its contents… all the same, the curiosity was gnawing ruthlessly at his gut, and he subconsciously began to flip through the pages.

Considering the dates, it was confiscated about six months ago, though had clearly been written in many months previous to that specific day.

********

_September 12th_

_Dear diary,_

_I don't know why I even bother with you. I think it's all because of what my father always used to tell me, about bottling up my anger. Either way, I'm forcing all of my angsty, teenage mood swings upon you- needless to say, your life's gonna suck, diary. No, that sounds too prissy; from now on, you are a journal, not a diary. Right, then. Um… it's my third day at the Institute. I'm flattered, really, that so many people have welcomed me with open arms. Not at all like things used to be back home, huh? It's probably just because we're all betas- there are about thirty of us, after all._

"She's a beta?" Matthew muttered to himself, raising an eyebrow in surprise. Well, he had certainly never considered _that_.

_There's one guy in particular, though- Bhaskar, from India- who really gets on my nerves. He couldn't be any clumsier if he stuck two sticks of butter beneath his feet. Then some random girl ran up to me and stared at me in shock, saying I should have been a Francophone or something._

"_Francophone_?" he repeated, utterly dumbfounded. Well, that was odd- this term had been used on him once or twice in his lifetime, with people calling him a "Francophone" or a "Canuck". He hadn't ever really thought of her using the word to describe herself, or rather _not_ describe herself, but regardless…

_December 5__th_

_Dear Journal,_

_You haven't the slightest idea how much I want to throw you against the wall, or at that idiot Bhaskar. You won't believe what he's done to me this time- he managed to fall down the stairs and knock me over in the process! I now have a bloody gash on the back of my head, and had to get stitches for it! I swear, one of these days-!_

_April 28__th_

_Dear Journal,_

_My God. I cannot express my utter shock in any way other than this. I cannot write any more than this either._

_April 29__th_

_I'm not going to bother saying "dear" before this, as I am about ready to throw Bhaskar out the window, right here, right now. He's in the main office, trying to fix his mistake, though it seems as though there isn't anything they can do. I can't believe this is happening… And it's all his fault!_

_As for my whole rant yesterday… I really shouldn't write this on paper. They'll probably find it and take it away from me anyway, but if I don't tell somebody, my head is going to burst._

_I have been replaced._

_Or, rather, I have been duplicated, in a sense. For I am no longer the only one of my nation to have been accepted into the Institute, and it's all that damned Indian's fault. Oh, I think I'm going to lose my mind…_

_May 4__th_

_Dear Journal,_

_This is, unfortunately, my last entry before they take you away and leave me to rant to myself instead of your pages. I finally know the name of the other student from my country- he's a male, evidently- some nobody_ _from God-knows-where. His name is-_

And Matthew's violet gaze rested upon the paper, widened in horror and utter terror. No, not that name… Surely there had been some sort of mistake? That couldn't possibly be the name of her duplicate. It all made sense now- the language, the attitude, the accent- it was all fitting together like pieces of a soggy puzzle; finally coming together in harmony, yet it beheld nearly no gleeful purpose any longer in its condition.

"What the hell do you think you're doing…?" whispered a horrified voice from behind. Anette stood the doorway, nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth once more. "What did you read?"

"Anette-!"

"_How much do you know_?!" she repeated forcefully, hazel eyes boring into his own mercilessly.

Matthew rose from his spot, the diary shoved hastily aside. He too proceeded to frown, eyebrows knitted together in frustration, confusion, and betrayal. "So… that's why you couldn't tell me where you were from."

"Matthew… I-"

His voice retained its soft, severe tone as he interrupted.

"So, Anette… When did you plan on telling me you were from Canada?"

* * *

A/N: **The truth is revealed!** Really, how many of you scrolled down to the bottom of the page? I hope not too many… Well, does this patch things up for you? One of the many secrets has been unraveled, but how do you think this happened? Stay tuned.

_Comment allez-vous aujourd'hui?-_ French for "How are you today?"

_Je me porte bien. Que faites-vous – _French for "I am well. What do you-"

_Sors de ma chambre!- _French for "Get out of my room!"

_Francophone_- Canadian slang term for a Canadian who speaks French as a first language.

_Canuck_- Another term for a Canadian, though it's not very derogatory anymore.

Sorry for any mistranslations. I don't speak French! I only know English and minor Spanish, unfortunately…

**R&R! Please include your input and the questions I asked in the earlier Author's Note. I wanna know your reactions. How many of you guessed this to happen?**


	19. Susidoroti

Neither Canadian dared utter a single word for the remainder of their infiltration. Anette was simultaneously ashamed and agitated- Matthew had read her personal diary from only months prior, after all- and had the utmost difficulty in reading his lips in the atmospheric darkness. Matthew, on the other hand, was dreadfully stunned, absolutely perplexed at his discovery only minutes preceding. The two persisted in their quest to seek out credentials or evidential paperwork of some sort, anything to reveal their many questions about the island, the college itself, and the students which resided in said places, to no avail.

However, rest assured that, the moment they arrived back at Anette's dormitory, the interrogations ensued.

"Alright, Anette. Let's hear it, then- give me the truth… the_ whole_ truth," Matthew muttered, eyebrows knitted together in a frustrated agony. "I can't believe this… This whole time, you've been-! And I've- Ugh! Why are we both here to begin with? It throws off the school's cultural balance."

"If you shut up long enough, I can tell you! Honestly!" She huffed out a long sigh, rubbing her throbbing temples and shrugging off her coat, allowing it to plunge to the floor. "Alright, well, I might as well start from the beginning, huh?

********

"_Bhaskar!" called a booming voice from beyond the main corridor. A rather flustered Indian male, black hair blowing messily about his face in his frenzy, came darting out from his spot beside the fountain and proceeded forward in a rushed panic, seeking out one particular man- the head of the school board himself, to whom he had become a consultant and a bit of a servant, in all honesty._

"_Y-Yes, sir?" Bhaskar stammered, finding himself at a rather low height when compared to the much taller man before him._

"_Ah, there you are! We're going to need some extra help with getting all of these applications sorted and whatnot. Take this stack of papers-" The older man dropped a sizeable stack of papers into the other's hands, weighing the short student down with its heavy contents. "-And make sure they are discarded properly."_

"_Oh, so these are the applicants who have been denied?"_

"_That's classified. Don't ask questions and do as you were assigned. I was told that you had done this many times before, and that it wouldn't be a hassle. However, if you are unable to do something of this-"_

"_N-No, sir! I can do it- I've already delivered these stacks twice before!" he reassured, a nervous smile gracing his lips. "Leave it to me! Eh heh heh…" Inhaling sharply, the Indian hoisted the stack of papers up onto his chest, to lean against his own torso in assistance to lifting their heavy load. Grimacing ever-so-slightly at the strained protest his muscles were giving, he advanced forward and out the door, shutting it closed with his foot on his way out._

_He wandered aimlessly around, seeking out the desired room within the vast expanse of campus grounds. Sure, he had done this before, but never had he come directly from that particular office, and he had only arrived at the Institute a short while back… Truth be told, he still found himself lost half of the time. The magnificent clock struck noon outside, a sheer signal for the remainder of students to flee to lunch, punctually colliding with Bhaskar's flustered form and nearly toppling him and his hundred-something paperwork. Thankfully, luck seemed to be on his side, and he managed to maneuver his way out of the ravenous crowd and towards the opposite building, papers digging ruthlessly into his fleshy palms as he gripped them tighter against his body._

_What was it that everybody around the world saw in this Institute? So little information had been given out to the general public to begin wit- why, Bhaskar himself had only agreed to apply on a whim, particularly a bet between himself and his older brother. He had never truly been able to grasp the concept of obsessive college applicants and their bizarre ways- but, perhaps, this was the reasoning behind his complete lack of confidence at times._

"_Hey, look out!" called a frantic voice from beyond, awakening him from his lapse of inner thought. Blinking out of his absentminded stupor, the young man found himself colliding head-on with another beta, causing both to stumble to the ground, entangled and panicky. Anette lay beside him on the ground, pushing him aside disconcertedly and staring in horror at the mess before her- she herself had been carrying an ample stack of papers, and had managed to get them muddled up with those of Bhaskar._

"Wait, wait!" Matthew interrupted, placing his forehead in his palm in utter disbelief. "You don't mean to say…? I mean, you were carrying a stack of accepted applications, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Someone had called me over, and I had foolishly thrust my responsibility upon his shoulders. I left him to try and organize all of the papers, both my stack and his own, and something happened. Neither of us is entirely sure how, but yours got mixed in with the accepted applications, and…" She sighed, placing her hands in her lap uncomfortably. "Well, in my opinion, the fault lies solely with the school board; I mean, really, they should either differentiate between their papers more or recheck over the organization, to assure this never happens. However, as it seems to have occurred already, I suppose there's nothing more either of us can do."

"It all makes sense now…" he mumbled, removing his glasses from his head and fingering awkwardly at the outer rims. "That's why they didn't have any information about me, right? On the first day?"

She nodded slowly, eyes averting to the ground. "They didn't find out about the mistake until it was too late to dig up info on you. I don't really know what the purpose is of their nosiness, but they dug up some pretty bad dirt on me as well. Almost as bad as Arthur's, I'd imagine, if his was really how you described it to me."

Matthew said nothing, for what could he possibly say in a time such as that? Everything he had come to believe about himself- about being specially chosen for the Institute, about him standing out from the rest of the applicants from his country- it was all false. All in all, his situation sounded almost as one from a cheesy soap opera, or an old drama, though it had weaved itself into his reality.

"Hey, Francophone, want some pancakes?" she offered, personality returning to its normal bluntness. "I made some yesterday and wound up with way too many."

"N-No thank you…"

Her eyes narrowed, and, without awaiting a protest or grumble, tossed a cold pancake at his face, which promptly slid from his cheek and onto his lap. "Eat it, damn it! I won't have you moping about just because you found out we're both Canadian. If it makes you feel any better, I'm from British Columbia, not Quebec. We've been a good three-and-a-half-thousand kilometers away for the majority of our lives. Oh, and there's maple syrup in the pantry, if you need it."

Matthew sputtered, gasping as the pancake made direct contact with his right cheek. "No need to throw it at me! I said I didn't want any; besides, it's one in the morning! I need to get back to my own room. See you around, I suppose." Without awaiting another word, the male Canadian rose from his spot, gathered his belongings, and left silently.

Outside, Matthew gazed up at the blanket of stars above, a warm quilt of glittering fire, so many miles away… if only he could join them up there, where perhaps things wouldn't be such an utter mess. To thrive amidst thousands of gleaming stars-so alike him, yet so different- and to fly freely across the sky upon his death, instead of fading away in a coffin… it sounded like the divine life, to him. Perhaps this was the inkling of heaven itself… but that was beyond his knowledge, and preferred not to think of such things at such a time.

Yet, all the same, he couldn't help but feel mildly discouraged at the thought, for living up in the stars would also provide him with a life surrounded by the bleak darkness of space, perhaps for an eternity. Still, perhaps he could manage to survive in those glittering beams of light? Indeed, as he gawked up at the stars above, a sad smile blessed his features as he brought the cold pancake up to his lips and tore off a bite for himself.

Perhaps… Perhaps he could create his own light, to guide him through this Celeste Mosaique.

Perhaps it was decidedly so.

********

"Aw, man!" Alfred whined a few days later, face meeting the bar before him and nearly knocking over his shot glass. "I can't believe this! They're forcing me to make up the days that I missed! Where't eh justice in that? I demand a full court trial! I deserve to state my case!"

"E-Eh, I think that's enough alcohol for you…" Toris placed a hand on the American's shoulder, a bit concerned for his companion. Alfred didn't appear quite wasted yet, but would surely drink himself silly if he continued at the rate at which he was going.

Roma smirked, wiping a cloth inside of a beer mug as he rather rudely butted into the conversation. "Oh, no, let him keep drinking! Really, he'll be fine! He's downed more than this in the past. It's not as if this is Im Yong Soo or Arthur we're talking about- now those two have bipolar alcohol disorders."

"Bipolar… Alcohol disorders?"

"Yeah. Their personalities completely intensify after getting wasted. It ain't pretty." Roma grinned wider, setting the mug atop the counter. "And then there are the frequent customers- you know, like Ivan, Gilbert, and Francis. But, hey, Vinem Voro's seen worse in its time."

Alfred allowed an eyebrow to twitch. "Don't even mention Ivan right now. Ugh…"

Toris's eyes softened, grabbing a small mug of beer and sipping it tentatively. "Ivan, huh? He's still after you and Yao?"

"Yep, Mattie too. He insists that he's going to back down and tell Natalia the truth, or something close to the truth, but has yet to do anything about it. The other day, I was doing homework at my desk. You know how my dorm's on the bottom floor? Well, I glance up for a split-second to look out the window, and there's Ivan, face pressed against the glass with a pipe in his hand. It freaked the hell out of me!"

"A-A pipe?"

"Yep. He said it was for a class project or something, but I don't believe that for a minute."

The Lithuanian grinned, a slight laugh erupting from within his lean chest. "Ah, Alfred, you don't know the half of it! Things used to be so horrible with him and I… It seems as though he has a new group of victims, huh?"

"Toris! That's not funny!" Alfred's bottom lip jutted out in a stubborn pout. "It's getting out of hand!"

"You haven't seen anything yet… I woke up once with him in my bed. Yeah, I'm serious. Let's see… Oh! And then there was the time when I found a stash of vodka bottles in my closet. The most frightening thing? He didn't have my dorm key. And it's not like he was close to me or my roommate- Feliks isn't particularly fond of him, either."

"What a creep…"

"Mm Hmm. Everyone says he was a juvenile delinquent, or whatever the Russian equivalent to that is." He lifted the mug to his lips, sipping a bit more of its frothy contents before frowning at it in distaste. "Hmph. Still can't adapt to the taste of American beer. Thanks for buying this for me, though."

"No problem!" Alfred grinned in return, chuckling briefly at the disgusted face the Lithuanian wore. "Hm, wonder what Mattie's doing right now? I haven't seen him since I got back… Know anything?"

"_Mon ami_, he's been locking himself in his room for days, didn't you know?" Francis approached the two, wine glass in hand. "Word's gotten out about his predicament, somehow. Apparently he hadn't taken the news too badly, but when everyone started talking about it, he got really down or something. Arthur's been trying to call him for the past day or so, but he won't answer. And then he didn't show up for work yesterday."

"What?" Alfred rose from his spot on the barstool, smile wiped clean off his mug. "What do you mean "his predicament"? Spill the news about my brother! It's not anything too bad, is it?"

"Huh? You mean you don't know? Well, I would have thought that, as his twin, you'd have been the first to know. Wow, not at all what I expected from-"

"Get _on_ with it, you frog!" Normally, Alfred tended to refrain from using any derogatory terms at any of the other students- after all, nobody had really called him a "yank" or anything yet.

"Mathieu isn't supposed to be here."

Alfred's fists unclenched, azure eyes widening in disbelief. "What do you mean by that?"

"He's not supposed to be here. Anette was the Canadian student who was supposed to be admitted. Matthew somehow got jumbled in with the rest of us, however, and…"

"He's…?"

********

"Mattie?" Alfred muttered, rapping on the door of his dormitory. Kiku stood beside him, having just returned from the bank and other various activities around town.

"He hasn't said much to me since we arrived. He's been working on something fervently, but I'm not entirely sure what…" the Japanese man mumbled, removing his key from his pocket. "Let me."

The door unlatched, allowing both the American and his companion to catch sight of Matthew. He lay amidst a seemingly-endless pile of books and papers, scattered in every which direction. Indeed, their context only further intrigued Alfred and Kiku, for he had, quite literally, every possible topic laying in his hoard- from key-picking to old Russian battle techniques- but for what reasons would he need such a variety? Hesitantly, Alfred took a step forward, advancing over a book labeled _The Technique of Gum-Chewing_ and placed a firm hand on his brother's shoulder, fear swelling in his chest at the possibility of his brother being unconscious.

Thankfully, the Canadian flinched, swatted the hand away, and proceeded to sleep peacefully, hunched over his stack of textbooks with a contented smile upon his face. _Typical Mattie- never letting anything get to him._

And Alfred could only smile back; for never had he seen Matthew Williams looking more like his true self for the past three years.

* * *

A/N: Eh, sorry if this lacked majorly. I've been kind of out of it this week, thus the reason why LMIW _still _hasn't been updated… I'll get to it eventually, don't worry.

_Susidoroti_- Lithuanian for "coping" or "deal"

Anyway, thanks for your feedback. *cough* _**Eleven**_ reviews?! I don't think I've ever gotten that many for one chapter… Nyaa~! Thank you ever so much! Love ya all to bits! Now if we could only get to 100… not per chapter, of course, but altogether.

**R&R!**


	20. Horonigai Gizen

"Ah~!" Alfred huffed, swiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. "It's December! Why is it so freakin' hot?"

"Because we're in the southern hemisphere, you git…" Arthur mumbled coolly, sipping scalding contents from his teacup. He, the American, and the Frenchman sat crowded around a sizeable wooden table, the stuffy atmosphere of the library all but unbearable, what with the sudden rupture of the air conditioner. T'was clearly the dawn of something grand, what with the blaring glow of the sun above, roasting all forms of life below to a semi-happy medium-well. Kiku, himself, leaned against a bookshelf in the far corner, deeply absorbing the fascinating contents of a novel- all the while cooling himself with a handheld Asian fan.

"Ah, winter! One man's diamond is another's gold, is it not?" Francis remarked, brushing his cascading locks of flaxen hair from his shoulder with a flamboyant swish of the wrist. "While many may be wallowing in the joyous events of a cold, snowy winter, snuggling up under the layers and layers of covers… Well, others may be basking in the warm sun, sweating enough to begin removing those layers, one piece of cl-"

"Don't… even _finish _that sentence, frog!" the Englishman snapped, nearly swashing his tea out of the china cup in the process. "Honestly, how_ does_ Matthew _stand_ you two?" His emerald gaze grew distant, staring absentmindedly at the wall adjacent to him. "Come to think of it, Matthew hasn't been showing his face all that often. He walks to school early and goes off somewhere during lunch. He'll come to work, but remain deathly silent the entire time… and his work pace has heightened considerably! The other day, he was running rampant so wildly that he nearly knocked over the pile of dirty dishes in the back! Kiku says that Matthew never speaks to anyone much anymore, not even him, and they share a room! I don't know what's going on with him, but I'm beginning to worry. And this all happened after he learnt of his, er, _dilemma_. Do either of you have any ideas?"

Alfred sighed, ruffling his own hair with a sweaty hand. "Not really. He hasn't said much to me either, and he when I ever do see him, he's completely stoic, almost robotic, even. All the same, I can tell he's really stressed right now- call it a twin's telepathy. And then there was the time when I walked in and found him asleep amidst a pile of books. Maybe he's been studying this whole time."

"Studying? For a _month_?" Francis frowned slightly, a bit disconcerted about such a proposal. "_Mon ami,_ I find that pretty unlikely, as much as I'd like to believe it. Perhaps… perhaps he's found love?"

"Love? With _whom_?" Arthur sputtered, nearly choking on his breakfast brew as that suggestion reached his ears.

"Oh, I assure you, the possibilities are endless. For all you know, it could be _you, mon cheri_!"

"Ah, I don't find that very likely." Alfred rubbed the back of his head anxiously, uttering a hesitant laugh as Arthur tossed a library book at the Frenchman's head. "Trust me, he's not-"

"It was a joke, idiot," Arthur grumbled, face a furious shade of scarlet. "No, I don't think love is the dilemma. I don't find it likely that he's just that serious about studying, either. Maybe it has something to do with humiliation, considering nearly every student knows about him not being the true Canadian. Although, that doesn't really seem to fit his personality."

The three remained silent for a few more brief moments, exchanging questioning glances with one another in the light of the morning. Said stillness was interrupted only by the blaring blatancy of Alfred's cell phone, ringing out in the tone of the American national anthem. "Hel-?"

"Hey, American!" shouted a frantic voice from the other end, a voice that Alfred had become all-too-familiar with.

"Ivan?! W-What do you want? Have my money, have anything you want! I-"

"Shh!" the librarian hissed from behind the counter, prompting Alfred to take his call elsewhere or lower his voice. Rolling his eyes, the American continued.

"What do you _want_, you creepy communist?"

"Russia hasn't been communist for nineteen years! Anyway, listen, I need a _big_ favor, so-"

"No."

"But I-"

"No."

"She knows!"

"Wha-?"

"Natalia!" The Russian's voice grew more desperate, distress lacing his voice. "She knows about you, Yao, and your brother… about how I lied. Now she's threatening me to marry her, and she keeps carrying a knife around with her! I've managed to hide for now, but you _will_ open your door, da?"

"I'm not even in my dorm room right now! Don't be unreasonable!"

A slight hesitation on the other end, twisting the American's stomach into knots. "Alfred, you… _will_… open the door, _da_? You and I both know what will happen if- W-Wah!" Ivan's voice rose suddenly, a terror overtaking his pitch with complete dominance. "Get away from me, you crazed-"

"Marry me, Ivan~!" spoke a monotonous female voice from the other end, and the phone fell silent in mere seconds.

"H-Hello?" Alfred asked into the cell phone, eyebrows rising in bewilderment. "Hello, Ivan?"

No response.

********

Alfred F. Jones strolled away from the library about an hour later, stomach still a bit queasy from his encounter with Ivan's threatening voice. Never had he heard the Russian so horrified… a sound which, in turn, disconcerted the American greatly- if Ivan was afraid of her, what was the mental woman capable of? Murder? Rape? The possibilities were endless… endlessly frightening, nonetheless.

_I wonder what Mattie's doing…_ he thought, coming to a halt just outside the park and sitting down at a bench, elbows propping up his chin as he thought. _He just seems so stressed out lately… and he hasn't even told me anything about it! I mean, come on, you stubborn Canadian! I'm the hero, and your brother nonetheless, you're supposed to come to _me_ in a time of need! Hmm… I know! Maybe you'll want to do something later!_ A childish grin blessing his lips, Alfred whipped his phone back out and dialed his brother's number, holding it impatiently up to his ear. Upon the middle of the fourth ring, Matthew finally answered with a gentle, drowsy "Hello…?"

"Hey, Mattie! Heh, um… Wanna do something later? I mean, if you don't mind me coming over for a little while… I could use some help on the economics homework." This was a clear lie, and it was probably evident in his tone, but it was entirely necessary nevertheless.

Matthew said nothing for what seemed like an eternity to the American twin, though his voice did falter once and a while as he tried to utter a response. Finally, a gentle sigh sounded on the Canadian's end, a wave of relief washing over Alfred's body and cleansing his anxiety. "I suppose… But you can't stay too late. How does six o' clock sound? You can stay for about two hours, but no more. I've got… _things_ to do."

"That's fine with me, Mattie~!" he replied in a mock singsong voice, smile radiating off of his face. "Hey… Matthew?" It was only on rare occasions that he used his brother's full first name. "Is everything alright?"

"What? Yes… of course, Alfred! Everything's fine!"

"Oh… good to know! Bye Mattie!"

"Goodbye, Alfred." And the phone call ended abruptly after those words were spoken.

_Ah… He always was a horrible liar._ Alfred sighed uncomfortably, folding his hands in his lap and scrutinizing his somewhat short nails. _For what reason would he feel the need to lie… to me? His own flesh and blood, for crying out loud!_

"Hey, something bothering you?" questioned a voice from behind him. Anette leaned over the back of the bench, propping up her own head with a palm against her cheek. "You're Matthew's brother, right? Alfonso?"

"Alfred," he responded nonchalantly, sapphire eyes distant. "Hey… Anette? Know about anything that may be bothering my brother?"

"Hrm. He's been pretty antisocial lately, huh? Don't know what his problem is, really. Hey… can you do me a favor?"

"Um, sure?"

"If you see him, tell him to get out of his slump and perk up a bit- the whole solo ordeal is really pissing me off."

"Er… sure thing, I guess?" Alfred said in reply, a bit uncertain of how to respond to such a blunt request.

"Thanks. See ya around." And, with those final words, she retreated into the bank across the pathway.

_Wow, everyone's noticing, huh? Anette, Arthur, Francis, Kiku… He's bringing himself down, and I don't want him losing any of his connections because of it! He hasn't acted like this since mom-_ He forced himself to cut that sentence off, a pang of sadness striking his heart for the briefest of moments.

And he would wait there, impatiently, for night to fall.

********

"Mattie?" he whispered, knocking gently upon the door. Twisting the handle in concern, he found it to be unlocked and invited himself in, gazing around in complete shock. Kiku's side of the room was entirely clean, well-kept and tended to. Matthew's, on the other hand, was an utter mess, a potential disaster even. Under normal circumstances, his brother was ridiculously neat, to the point where it was almost annoying. This, however, was absurdity in the making, with books flung everywhere and various sheets of bizarre paperwork tossed here and there, tucked in the corners and stuffed under the mattress.

"My god… Mattie, what have you been _doing_ in here?" Alfred heard himself mutter, unable to prevent the words from spewing from his lips. Matthew strolled out from the bathroom, jolting back slightly at the unexpected arrival of his twin, but soon returned a small smile and waved, a slight blush dappling his cheeks.

"Um… sorry for the mess, Alfred." His voice had grown unbearably quiet, and the Canadian had been soft-spoken to begin with. "Kiku is out shopping with Ludwig and Feliciano, so he shouldn't bother us for a while. Now… what did you say you needed help with?" Matthew's ginger hair was uncharacteristically disheveled, his stray strand sticking out in an abnormal fashion, and it was, all in all, rather frizzy. His spectacles were dangling limply from his nose, a bit crooked as they rested upon his face, and his eyes themselves seemed veiled behind the glint of the glass behind which they concealed themselves. However, even in all of this suppression, Alfred could distinctly make out a pair of drowsy violet eyes gazing absentmindedly back at his own. To say his brother's appearance was surprising would have been the understatement of the century, for Matthew looks absolutely appalling, if not a bit horrifying; for, if this was what his brother was to become after his experiences in this Institute, Alfred would surely sue them out of their right minds.

"Um… E-Economics, I suppose," he managed to stutter out, unable to tear his stare away from his brother's form. And, if he scrutinized closely enough, he could have sworn that his already-lanky twin had thinned out even more so than before.

"Hm, how ironic," Matthew mused, leaning against the doorframe for exhausted support. "The American needs help with economics, huh? I tease. Come over to the table and I can help you."

"Uh, okay."

The two clambered over to the kitchen table, cautious to avoid the obstacles posed by the various objects strewn upon the carpet. "Alright, Alfred. What exactly do you need help with?"

Alfred met his brother's gaze sternly, a rare frown taking refuge upon his lips. "Matthew…" The entire name forced itself from his mouth, faltering slightly as it traveled up his vocal chords.

His brother just sighed, massaging his forehead with his thin fingers subconsciously. "You… You didn't really need my help, did you? It was all a set up. Look, Alfred, I know what you're going to ask. I'm sorry, really I am, but I can't tell you anything. I promised myself that I wouldn't get anybody I cared about involved. You understand, right?"

"Understand…?" he muttered, gritting his teeth in irritation. "_Understand_? Matthew, aside from our father, you are the only flesh-and-blood I have left! I've always trusted you with… well, everything! Secrets, money, plans… Why can't you just tell me what's going on?"

"Because I don't want you getting involved in all of this." The Canadian's voice was shaky, trembling, and his eyes were glossing over, but he sat firm regardless.

"All of _what_, Matthew?" he persisted, placing a hand over Matthew's and forcing the other to look into his eyes. "What can't you tell me? You said a few months ago, back when you found out about my bruise from Father, that you were sick of all the secrecy, of all the lies! Don't you see that I'm in that position right now? It's like I'm losing my other half or something!"

"Alfred, I can't take this right now!" Matthew cried out, burying his face in his palms in shame. "You have no idea what I'm going through right now!"

"And I'd like to find out so that I _can_ help you!"

"I'm just… I'm feeling incredibly pressured right now, alright? Why can't we just leave it at that?!" His voice was deathly quiet all the while, though it still quivered uncontrollably. He hastily swiped away a tear that had stained his cheek in the process of his shushed outburst. "Just trust me- in the long run, you'll be glad you didn't get involved. Besides, you'll actually benefit from part of what I'm trying to do, so quit complaining and let it go!"

"But I-!"

"Enough! Let's talk about something else, please?" Normally, Alfred would have turned down a proposal such as that of his brother, but the pleading tone in his solemn voice made him seriously rethink his strategy.

A sigh from the American. "Alright."

"Let's see… Um… Oh! Ivan came over here a while ago! Apparently, Natalia found out about our little fib, and-"

"Yeah, he called me earlier, too. Wait, you actually let him in?"

"Let me finish, will you?" he teased, smile gradually returning. "Anyway, he stayed for about an hour, sitting in the corner in a fetal position, eyes horrified. I've never seen him so frightened! He still has trouble remembering my name, though…"

"Hm." _I understand that he's trying to avoid the subject, but couldn't he at least have thought up something interesting to talk about? Of course, socializing was never his strongest point to begin with, even with family… I just hope you know what you're doing, Mattie, because you have everybody worried sick about you. Hell, if you don't calm down and return to normal, you may catch some sort of illness yourself, and we all know how you react to getting a virus._

An obnoxious snore abruptly interrupted his thoughts. Matthew had, evidently, fallen asleep whilst Alfred has been thinking deeply- or as deeply as he _could_ think- and now leaned against the table, arms tucked beneath his face, eyes shut, and face peaceful.

_He's asleep… Maybe I could dig up some dirt on what he's planning…? No, no, bad idea. Bad. Idea. That would be so un-heroic! Whoever heard of a hero who barged into his brother's private life? Well, I'm pretty sure there was one superhero that may have done that, but I'm not sure. No, I can't butt into his business. No…_

Before he was truly aware of it, Alfred was rummaging through his brother's various books and papers, not bothering to take the time to read them thoroughly and mostly just scattering them even further. _Jeez, who in their right mind would collect so much crap? Of course, Mattie's not exactly _in_ his right mind right now…_ Whilst he pondered over this idea, his eyes caught a glimpse of Matthew's cell phone, the spare one given to him by Alfred, jutting out from behind the pillow.

Of course, snatching away his brother's cell phone and scrolling through his recent calls list would be considered unethical by most, but he wasn't feeling particularly patient that day, so he performed such a heinous crime regardless.

_Let's see… Me? I sure don't know what's going on. Arthur? No. Kiku? No. Ivan…? I hope not. Hmm… Nothing too out of the ordinary, I suppose. Hrm.. wait, _what _name was that?_ Surely the light must have been playing tricks with his mind again (it couldn't have been too hard to do, after all)… or perhaps he was hallucinating from stressing over his twin's stress. Yes, surely that must've been-

But, alas, as he sifted through the list once more, the same horrid name kept reappearing within his recent caller list, a name that had been godforsaken to both he and his Canadian twin for the entirety of their lives. Alfred's heart surely must have skipped a beat, for in that moment, all seemed paralyzed around him.

What could have possibly possessed Matthew to answer and receive calls from their father?

* * *

A/N: Yep. Father's been callin', all right, and more info on this should come within the next chapter or so. How did he get his number? Find out soon! Sorry if this confused you at all, considering the fact that I'm typing… at night… in a closet… don't ask. Anyway, be sure to keep sending in your input! Love ya all like always~!

_horonigai gizen_- Japanese for "Bittersweet Hypocrisy"

EDIT: Fixed the part where I forgot to mention him getting his phone back. Sorry about that- I could've sworn that scene was in here already!

Nyaa~! We made it to 100+ reviews! I'm so freakin' happy right now! Ah, I feel so accomplished~! (Now, if we could only make it to 150… *shot*)

**R&R!**


	21. Quello Che Mio Fratello Non Lo Sa

_Why?_ Alfred silently proceeded to contemplate his brother's actions, deeming them foolish and unreasonable. _Why would he ever respond to such a horrible man's phone calls? How long has this been going on? Why didn't he tell me about all of this? For the same reason I did, when hiding my scars? But that would make Mattie a hypocrite… _All in all, his temples were throbbing, his heart was battering off of his ribcage, and he was entirely unsure of how much more stress he could bear. For, really, if Matthew had been resorting to his father's words of _motivation_- more like a lack thereof- then what other possible turmoil and paranoia had the younger Canadian twin been experiencing? Alfred felt a shudder rack his shoulders at the sickening thought, and hastily stuffed the phone into his pocket. He recognized that such an act would get him nothing but an infuriated brother, but knew that such actions were taken as a last resort.

_Now I've resorted to theft? Jeez, what's happening to us? I'm with Mattie on this one- all of the lies and secrecy need to end. Now. _Sighing gently, he turned his head ever-so-slightly, eyes making direct contact with his sibling's slumbering face, at peace and serene. If only things could remain as such upon his awakening. If only their dreams, excluding the horrid nightmares, could become the reality, in which there was no death, no disease, no pain. He had suggested this to Matthew over the phone a few years ago, but the Canadian had just scoffed at him and said that it was completely unreasonable. Besides, residing in a world without all of those negative influences- well, it seemed to Matthew like pure chaos. Without crime and punishment, would we not learn the lessons that morph us into who we have become over the years? Without death, would we not learn how precious one's life really is, and to live through every moment with the utmost ecstasy? The younger twin had found the American's ideas to be utterly unrealistic, as well as undesirable.

_Would he still answer me in the same way, though? He's already changed so much since then; who's to say that he wouldn't give me a different response?_ Of course, he was still Matthew Williams, brother of Alfred F. Jones, yet his ideas and priorities seemed to have altered incredulously in the passing years. Well, it did make sense, somewhat, as they had both blossomed into young men since their fourteenth year. All the same, that certainly did _not_ give them the excuse to completely modify their personalities. Perhaps Alfred was overreacting- after all, it was possible that his father had come to terms with his Canadian son, and that they were attempting to patch things up.

_Yeah, and Francis can fly, _he thought bitterly, frowning as Matthew began to stir. Reassuring himself of his twin's cell phone tucked inside his coat pocket, Alfred cleared his throat and proceeded to fake his lack of knowledge about the homework assigned, just as planned.

********

Exactly eighteen hours had passed since that night.

"Ve~! Ludwig!" Feliciano called from the pantry, fright lacing his panicky voice. "Help! I'm stuck in the cabinet! A-And I'm stepping in something! It's kind of hard, and-"

"That's my hand, you damned idiot!" Lovino snapped, sightless as well in the darkness of the pantry. "Hey, potato-bastard! Open the door! I know you're there!"

The German man sighed, groaning into his palm as he advanced towards the wooden door behind the counter. "And how exactly did you two manage to get yourselves locked in?"

"Hell if I know! Enough questions! Lemme out, damn it!"

"Alright, alright. Enough shouting." Ludwig grimaced, headache escalating in intensity, and dug deeper into his pants pocket for the key. "Which one was it again…?"

"Uwah~!" Feliciano shrieked, banging fervently against the wooden door. "Lovino, Ludwig, Antonio, anyone! Gilbert, Alfred, F-"

"Go ahead and shout out the names of every-" The door creaked open, blinding both Italians by a piercing beam of light, cast upon the wooden flooring by the sun's light through the glass walls. "About time, potato-freak," Lovino grumbled, murmuring under his breath, all the while trudging out of the pantry with tomato sauce staining his left cheek. Feliciano smiled giddily, leaping forward to grab Ludwig in a bear hug.

"Ve, thanks, Ludwig!" Laughing childishly, the younger Italian removed his death-grip on the German and swayed happily out of the closet as well, re-tying his apron around his waist. He ensued, cloth rag in hand, to swipe down each table of their restaurant with a lemon-scented cleaning spray of some sort.

Or, at least, attempted to do so, for a single customer still sat hunched over a newspaper and sipping a cup of freshly-brewed coffee. "Hm? Alfred? What're you doing here? Ooh, is your brother here too?"

"Nope. He's… in his room…"_ Again_. Thankfully, within the past eighteen hours, Matthew hadn't found out about his missing phone, though the American knew it was only a matter of hours before he did come to that little realization. "Hey, Feli? Can I order some food? Spaghetti, if you have it."

"Heh, sure thing! Meatballs?"

"Of course!" Alfred replied cheerily, grinning in return at the bubbly Italian. Even in the dampest of moods, spending time with Feliciano could either cheer you up, like with Alfred, or infuriate you further, Lovino being the perfect example. "Extra burger, too, if you have any!"

"Ah, sorry. We haven't had any burger for the past few weeks…" Ludwig approached behind Feliciano, nodding curtly at the American in a soldier-like fashion. The German _had_ planned on being part of the army, but had decided otherwise at the last minute, after his application was (surprisingly) accepted. "Feliciano, please go help out your brother in the kitchen. He looks about ready to murder Antonio with a tomato and a butter knife."

"Ah~! Okay, sir!" he chirped, smile widening. Casting a sidelong glance at Alfred, the bizarre Italian skipped away, humming a familiar tune under his breath. Ludwig awaited his companion's entire departure before returning his gaze to the American.

"Alfred, mind if I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Well, it's about Francis…"

"Wha? Why would you-"

"Just, please, hear me out! He's been hanging around with Feliciano a lot lately, and he's beginning to get a bit too comfortable, if you catch my drift. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take… Do you think you could, maybe, try and reason with Francis? I myself have tried countless times, but nothing ever seems to work."

Alfred blinked once, twice, before smiling gently. "Of course! What kind of hero would I be to leave a damsel-in-distress… well, in distress?"

"A… _what_…?"

And that's the exact moment when the phone in his pocket- Matthew's cell phone, to be precise- began to vibrate vigorously. "A-Ah! Excuse me for a moment, please?" Without awaiting a response from the German, Alfred bounded forward, sliding awkwardly out of the seat, and raced out the doors, nearly knocking over a customer in the process. "S-Sorry!" he apologized, stopping to rest beside the fountain.

The phone began to vibrate again, perhaps more intensely than before, and the American reluctantly reached into the pocket to withdraw the trembling device. Here it was, the moment of truth. The moment in which it would all come spewing out of his father's cold lips; their secrets, their plans, their-

"Hello?" Alfred voiced into the telephone, trying to mask his voice under a softly-toned veil.

"Alfred!" snapped a voice from the other end. "Mind telling me _what the hell you're doing with my phone_?"

Oh, crap.

********

"M-Mattie?" Alfred stammered, clutching the cell phone with clammy fingers. The sheer severity of his brother's furious voice disturbed the American greatly- Matthew very rarely ever swore, or even made reference to Hell itself, so to hear such seething language pass his brother's lips worried him more so than seeing his sibling in person. "What…? You mean… this is your phone? Eh heh…" Not at all as convincing as planned…

"Don't try and mess around with me, Alfred!" The Canadian's voice sounded almost pained, and Alfred himself had to strain excessively just to make out the words of his brother. "I know good and well that you've been invading my private life. Can't you just… let me live my life on my own?"

"Mattie, you've been alone for the past two or three years! Don't act like I've-"

"I've never been alone, Alfred. I may have been living by myself, but I have always been able to take care of myself! That alone should prove that- Oh, forget it! I don't know why I even bother trying to explain things to you anymore!"

"Matthew, don't lie to me- I need to ask you something. Please don't think badly of me, I was doing this for your own good." His voice hitched for the briefest of moments, the words heavy on his tongue. "What has Father been saying to you over the phone?"

A pregnant silence hung in the atmosphere, carrying out unto the other end of the phone line. "You…" Matthew choked out, voice lowered to a mere whisper before hollering out in a panic. "You! You went through my phone history? Alfred, I just-! Argh! I can't believe you!"

"C-Calm down, Mat-"

"Calm down? _Calm do-?!_"

"Ah, wait Matthew, someone's beeping in. I'll talk to you later, I suppose."

"Alfred, wait! Don't-" But the American had already hung up.

Alfred gulped, breathing soon proving to be a most difficult task, as his sapphire gaze caught a glimpse of the caller ID on the screen. _It's Father… _he thought fearfully, heat rate escalating by the second. Reluctantly, his thumb brushed over the button and pressed it, accepting the phone call and placing the cell phone back up to his ear. "Hello?" he said gently, trying desperately to imitate his brother's voice.

"Alfred?" That most certainly wasn't his father's voice, and judging by the soft tone, he could fairly assume it to be the vocals of an employee. "What are you doing with Matthew's phone?"

"Um, he's… In the bathroom. Can I take this call for him?"

"Can it wait? I don't think your father would want me to…"

"Ah, sorry. He's out buying… pancake mix right now. He won't be home for a while."

"You said he was in the bathroom."

"He's in the bathroom at the grocery store." Okay, this was getting blown way out of proportion, but regardless…

"R-Right… Er, anyway. Alfred, please tell Matthew that he needs to reply to your father's requests by tomorrow night. He should understand what we mean by that. So… how are things over in-"

_Click_. Alfred clamped the phone shut, ending the call instantaneously with trembling fingers. More secrets? Now, more than ever before, the mingling sensation of guilt and curiosity was eating away at the inner lining of Alfred's stomach, churning his acidic unease incessantly. So… His father had been requesting things from his brother? The mere idea of that alone disturbed the American intensely. For what reasons would his sire be creating demands from poor Matthew, whose Institutional residency he wasn't even supposed to know about.

All in all, Alfred's head hurt. It was going to be a long year.

In the end, after weighing the two options back and forth in his mind, Alfred came to the assured conclusion to what exactly his plan of action would become. As winter neared and the weather warmed inconsistently, he would give Matthew the cell phone back and pretend as though nothing had really happened, although both knew all too well who was trying to get through to them. Matthew would probably scold his twin before forgiving him begrudgingly and continuing on with his daily life. And, all the while, Alfred would slowly try and convince Mattie to spill the information- about what was really going on in his life. Yes, the plan was foolproof. Surely nothing could ruin his little scheme?

But, of course, as Alfred proceeded back towards the restaurant for his plate of spaghetti, he managed to lose his firm grip on the phone and drop it down the gutter.

Perhaps the plan wasn't so infallible after all…

* * *

A/N: *exhale* Finally done with this part. Alright, everyone, this_ basically _marks the end of the first half of the story. I know, this is going to be very long, and probably drag out much too far, but please try to stick with me on this. More will be revealed within time, as well as a deeper suspense… and more foolproof friendships and enemies shall be made…

Sorry if too much of this has been in Alfred's point of view. The next half will likely start off with Matthew's POV, so keep watch for that. This chapter was a bit too short, really, but still needed to get jammed in there somehow. It's not exactly a filler, but nothing really happened, I suppose. I'm sorry~!

Also note that I will most likely not have internet connection for the next six days or so due to visiting family. Therefore, this will probably be the last thing I update until Sunday or Monday of next week, depending on whether or not I finish the next chapter of LMIW by later tonight.

_Quello che mio fratello non lo sa_- Italian for "What my brother doesn't know"

**R&R! Part two could be coming your way~!**


	22. Drunken Beginnings

A/N: Eh, slight Christian references in this chapter, considering Canada is predominantly Catholic and Protestant. Please forgive me, for I genuinely respect your religious opinions and do not mean to prove or disprove them in any way. Believe me, if I could Japan to make a Buddhist remark, I would do it. The opportunity hasn't arisen, though, and I don't really think it necessary at the moment.

Now that that's passed…

I'm currently debating on something, and would like your full opinion on it- Where should this story go? Would you rather see it 30 chapters or less, with me trying to answer the questions abruptly, instead of dragging it out with a few fillers here and there? Or would you rather I try and spread it out further, to 45 or less chapters, and insert a few little funny/pointless filler chapters every once I a while? I just don't want this story to get too lengthy to the point where it gets uninteresting. Let me hear your feedback!~

* * *

"Ah~! Merry Christmas!" Alfred's childlike shouts echoed throughout the campus, disrupting the frantic studying on the part of a few students… and then there was the vast majority of the student body who desired nothing more than to clobber the obnoxious American with a sledgehammer. Other students, such as Kiku and Yao, didn't celebrate Christmas, and found it to be no different than every other day, but still appreciated any gifts given to them by others.

Matthew and Kiku sat in their dorm room that morning, sipping little mugs of semi-frozen milk in attempt to keep cool- for this was the Southern Hemisphere, and while it wasn't nearly as different from the North as it could be, it was still considerably warm for winter. "Merry Christmas, Matthew-san," Kiku muttered, smiling gently at his roommate. The Canadian smiled in return, wiping off his newly-formed milk moustache with the back of his palm.

"Thanks, Kiku. I know you don't typically celebrate Christmas over in Japan, but I hope you have a good winter as well." Be it the weather or the spirit of the holidays, but Matthew's mood had improved significantly compared to the month previous, and for this Kiku was thankful.

The Japanese student hesitated briefly before asking, "What do you think your brother would like? He gave me a Christmas gift this morning, but I don't know what to give him back in return."

"You don't have to get him anything, but… Hmm. He really likes heroes and stuff… Maybe a comic book of some sort?"

"A comic?" Kiku shuffled through a stack of various things upon the bookshelf. "Like this? Or like a manga, perhaps?"

"Well… Either one is probably fine with him. Whichever you think is fine, I'm sure. He's never been very particular about anything." Matthew gave one final slug of his glass of milk before sitting it back upon the countertop. "Well, we have the next week or so off… Or, at least, we both do. I think Alfred, Ivan, and Arthur had to stay for lessons in a few days, to make up for their vacation time, but you've already done that…"

"_Hai_. I think he would like this one best. I'll be sure to package it tonight. So… Do you have any plans for the holiday?"

"Um… Alfred wanted to throw a party, but I'm not sure if that's really my calling. I may steer clear of it this time."

"I was invited as well. I'm not sure whether or not I should go either, but it can't hurt, I suppose." The Japanese man sighed deeply, thoughts overwhelming his mind's capacity of tolerance. "I cannot help but feel a bit uneasy about what exactly he has planned for everyone."

"Heh. I remember one year, he came to visit, and brought a giant box full of uncooked hamburger. The sad thing is, he was entirely serious!" It seemed as though this statement was spoken as more of a personal, almost melancholic reminiscing than anything else, but Kiku smiled gently and took another slow sip of the cool drink.

"You two are really close, aren't you?" he muttered, eyes soft with a solemn understanding. "You're lucky. A few years ago, I would have given anything for a family bond like that, particularly with siblings. It's a special thing you two have. I am envious."

"Don't be." Though the words were beyond flattering in the Canadian's eyes, he couldn't help but regret the envy he brought upon his roommate. "It can be refreshing, sometimes, but… well…" Again, the words continued to fail from spilling past his tongue. "Having lived such different lives up until this point has changed us, and brought a barrier between who we are. I know that probably doesn't make much sense, but… it's just… we can't exactly see things from the same prospective, because of this. And then there's Father, who seems to make it a habit of interfering with both of our lives. Mother had always had a soft spot for Alfred, but I could see in her eyes just how much she regretted leaving him to grow up with that awful man. And, in the end, I don't think she fully realized how much Alfred had gotten from living from under Father's hand, personality-wise. They're more alike than you realize- Alfred seems to have firm personality like Father, and shares his hot-temper and motivation to get what he wants. There are many more similar qualities, but Alfred has at least managed to control them under optimism and socialization."

Kiku said nothing, made no motion, but merely sat, deeply contemplating all that had just been said from the rarely-talkative man before him. Finally, he stood and mumbled, "And those are the qualities that seem to make him resistant to your Father's personality, and able to tolerate your sire for all of those years, and still today."

"I know, I know… I still need him to buy a new phone!" he shouted suddenly, rising from his spot as well. "He still hasn't replaced my cell phone, and it's been a good month or so!"

Kiku couldn't help but chuckle at the abrupt change in mood. Indeed, it seemed as though Matthew's temperament would greatly improve, should his life continue at its current rate.

Of course, there were still many things unanswered; for, really, Gilbert and Feliciano still hadn't figured out their true purpose for being selected. And then there was Alfred's question of what his father and Matthew had been conversing about. All together, the many inquiries and mysteries hadn't been solved in the least- heck, the only thing that anybody had found out about was Matthew and Anette's double-Canadian situation, and the hype about that had pretty much died down after the first week or so. Very few people had been opposed to it, surprisingly.

Regardless, the remainder of the year would most definitely prove to be… well, interesting, would it not?

********

"Oh come on -hic- Mattie~!" Alfred slurred, face nearly making a prompt collision with the pavement below before his twin caught a firm hold on his brother's shoulder. "We still got –hic- a few more hours to waste."

"You've had more than enough hours as it is, Alfred!" Matthew replied back, rolling his violet eyes with a heavy sigh. After many strenuous hours of drunkenness on the parts of nearly every student on campus, involving the most random of objects, Matthew had insisted that he and his brother leave the party's premises, which happened to be Vinem Voro itself. Although it had, in fact, been set up by Alfred, the American had barely sobered up for an hour before the beer began flying, as well as the slurred speech patterns and the incessant hiccupping. Never had the Canadian been so glad to escape the location of such a hectic get together than that very night; just before they had made their departure, Ivan had chugged about three bottles of vodka, and Gilbert had just begun doing unsightly things to the pinball machine as they had trudged out the door, leaning against each other for support.

"Way to ruin the fun…" Alfred grumbled, coming to an abrupt halt before a garbage can outside one of the shops. "Hold on a sec, I –hic- don't feel so good…" And the American promptly threw up on the spot, nearly missing the trash can.

"Oh, honestly, Alfred!" The Canadian crossed his arms, waiting rather impatiently for his twin to finish his spewing fit. "This is why I don't drink…"

Alfred huffed, coughing up the last bit of regurgitation and spitting it into the dumpster. "Alright, I drank a little too much. But, hey, -hic- Ludwig was askin' for it! He was the one who challenged me to a drinking –hic- contest!"

"That doesn't mean you have to go along with it." Oh, could his brother be any more intelligently pathetic? Actually, that in itself was a bit of a contradictory statement- why, Alfred _himself _was contradictory! And, sadly enough, in more ways than one. "Oh, wait, we left Kiku, didn't we…?"

"Oops." Alfred's lips parted, mouth opening wide in a prolonged yawn. "Ah well –hic-, time for bed. I'm heading home. G'night."

_If you're sure you can make it_… Matthew nodded curtly and bid his brother a final farewell before turning to head back in the other direction. _After all, I did promise Kiku I would wait up for him. What kind of friend would I be to just leave him behind because my brother got wasted? Ah, wait, I hope Kiku isn't drunk. He does seem to have a taste for… what was it again? Sake? Hmm… I've already dealt with one drunken buffoon, I don't need two! By the end of the night, I'll need alcohol just to keep the stress down! _A frown blessed upon his face, the Canadian released a gentle sigh and opened the door to the pub once more.

"Kiku?" he called out, glancing in every which direction for his accomplice. "Hello? Kiku?" Alas, it seemed his voice was much too quiet for any considerable amount of noise. He rolled his eyes one last time before proceeding into Vinem Voro itself, groping his way through the massive crowd of students and betas alike, the majority far more drunken than he had ever witnessed in his lifetime. Over in the corner, Gilbert continued to badmouth the pinball machine, while Im Yong Soo began incessantly darting after Yao, hands reaching forward in an attempt to… well, Matthew didn't particularly _want _to know.

At last, the ever-familiar voice of his companion rang out above the rest. "Ugh… Matthew-san?" he grumbled, approaching the Canadian with a slight stumble in his step. "Are you leaving now?"

"I think we probably ought to leave…" Especially considering Kiku's condition, for the Japanese man's normally-flawless black hair was unruly and disheveled, his eyes bore heavy bags and… all in all, he appeared as though a truck had run over him, then gone back in reverse for good measure.

"Of… course…" And, with those final words, he slumped forward, leaning his entire weight against his roommate's shoulder, fast asleep. The close proximity presented Matthew with a rather disgusting scent of alcohol- indeed, Kiku had been drinking, and had taken in quite a bit more than he could handle. Thankfully the sleep was peaceful and serene, and he somehow managed to continue stumbling forward without full consciousness.

_Dear Mother,_ Matthew began mentally as he and Kiku retreated out into the starry night. _Again, I hope it's safe to assume that you are perfectly happy, wherever you may be right now. My life seems to have been improving, yet… I cannot help but regret not finishing that conversation topic with Father. As much as I despise speaking with him, this was dire, and now my phone's gone… Please, keep watch over Alfred too, if you haven't been, because he'll be needing so much more than luck over the next few years, considering his current status, as well as his college education. Allow everybody at this Institute to thrive, or at least wish it upon us, if you may._

_And, lastly, I pray that you wish me good luck in finding out the secrets that this school has to keep hidden. That is all. Goodbye._

********

A/N: Shorter than I would've preferred, but I have much more planned for next time, including a pretty important flashback, so stay tuned!

**R&R! Lemme hear your feedback about the previously-mentioned issue!**


	23. Un Cambiamento di Scenario

A/N: Well, I know this took a long time to get out, so here's my explanation. Don't hate me, unless you think it absolutely necessary.

See, I know perfectly well how I'm going to end this. Unfortunately, the parts that lead up to the ending were still a bit foggy as far as plotline goes, and how it was going to play out. However, I think I have figured out, for the most part, where I'm going with this. Let me know if this seems a bit too off-track from the storyline's normal events.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against blondes, nor Brazil. Please do not take offense at Gilbert's fail!Joke.

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_I really don't want to write in you, but I suppose I should begin recording the happenings at the Institute, for future use and whatnot. Let's see…._

_The winter months have come and gone as quickly as ever, it seems. Already, the end of February approaches, and things have been… well, relatively normal. It's astounding, really, how close we are to the end of the freshman year at this bizarre college, and we still know so little. Well, now the hype over the Institute is beginning to arise again around the more powerful nations of the world, and everyone around campus has been buzzing about it. I think everyone hopes to get chosen for an interview or questionnaire of some sort- something to get them really well-known in their own country back at home. I personally love it here- I wouldn't dream of returning to my former home, with all of the constant mocking and brotherly taunting. Don't get me wrong, I miss my family dearly, but I'm perfectly content on this island, where the majority of its inhabitants are kind-hearted enough towards me. Don't get me wrong, being an Englishman can have its disadvantages when it comes to the bloody frog and the idiotic American, but they have all, for the most part, befriended me in some way or another. Yes, sadly, even Francis and Alfred have grown pretty close to me. Ah well, I could have had worse company, I suppose, had I gone to college back in that small town._

_Ranniku has been earning us more money in the past few months than ever before- a feat Kiku, Matthew, and I are proud to have accomplished. I suppose, even though climates have been a bit warmer in the winter time than most of us seem to be used to, my fellow classmates cannot force themselves to break the tradition of the wintertime, and decide to sit down to a warm drink._

_Speaking of which, Matthew and Kiku are fine as well, I guess. Neither one have a tendency to talk all that much, but, hey, that Swedish guy is worse than that, so I suppose it could be much more severe. From what I've heard, Alfred has gotten his regular portion of money back, and their father hasn't been speaking much to either of them, as far as my knowledge goes._

_I would write more, but a rather loud crash just sounded from the bathroom. Honestly, Francis went in there for five minutes to take a shower, and he's probably managed to break the showerhead off of the wall for the third time this semester- don't ask how that happens; I don't know and I don't particularly _want _to. Bloody wanker…_

~Arthur Kirkland

*********

"Hm?" Matthew grumbled, releasing a deep yawn and stretching his arms above his head as the sun barely revealed itself beyond the horizon. Another thunderous rapping pounded at the door to the dorm room, alarming both him and Kiku awake instantaneously. The Canadian stole a swift glance at the bedside clock, and although his vision was rather blurred from his lack of glasses, was able to make out the time to be about seven o'clock. "Who on earth…?" Why in the world would anybody come knocking at the door at _that_ hour? Certainly whoever-it-was had lost their mind? Regardless, Matthew forced himself upward form the bed, disheveling the sheets a bit before trudging over to the door, thankfully having fallen asleep in his clothes the previous night. Reluctantly, he drowsily wrapped his fingers around the brass handle of the door and yanked it open, wiping his eyes with the base of his palm before making eye contact with the unfamiliar person at the door.

It was a woman of about thirty or so, her outfit giving off an air of professionalism. "Hello, sir. I'm sorry to wake you at this time, but may I discuss something with you and your roommate? If it's no trouble, of course." Matthew turned to Kiku, assuring himself that it was perfectly fine with the Japanese man as well. Kiku simply nodded, sitting upright and blinking frequently in effort to stay awake. "Thank you, sirs. Now, I might as well cut to the chase. You see, I represent the staff at Krowa Studio, back in America. We were looking for a group of young men and women living here on the island, hoping for some sort of information from the first group of students- you know, about things like routine life and how you've made a living. We would be sure to do it over the upcoming spring break, as we know some of you can't afford any more missed days. We're even willing to pay for flight expenses, though you'll have to cover everything else with your own money. How's it sound?"

"But neither of us is American. I'm Canadian, he's Japanese-"

"Oh, that won't be a problem! Hey, Canada's right above the USA, and Japan has pretty strong ties to our country.

Kiku was the first to speak, standing up from his spot at the bedside. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we may have to discuss it first. Is it possible for you to give us your number?"

"Oh, of course!" She shuffled into her pockets and withdrew a business card. "Just ask for Abigail~! While I wander around campus, please continue to consider this offer. We leave two days from now, early in the morning." With those final words, she shut the door and sauntered across campus to as more students of interest.

"W-Well…" Matthew stuttered a bit as the words shakily came forth from his mouth. "What do you think, Kiku? I myself have no interest in going to America, but…"

"Hmm. I'm not entirely sure. All they want to do is dig up some dirt on the Institute, but we do not know much more than they do. Of course, Alfred-san will probably want to go, if offered. I wonder if he was already asked…? Of course, foreign cultures leave me a bit uncomfortable… To be honest, I wasn't calm about coming here, but managed to get used to it after a few months. I probably will not be going, but if you considered it, I may decide to tag along after all. You, Arthur, and the rest of our companions could probably help me get over the culture shock by distracting me a bit from all of the foreign-"

"Mattie~! Kiku~!" shouted an overly-enthusiastic voice from the hallway, just beyond their dormitory. The door flung open wildly, a gleeful American student (referred to by many as a freak of nature) standing in the doorway with a broad smile plastered on his face. "Have you heard the news? They're offering people interviews! I heard there was an American on campus, as well as a Russian and someone from Brazil, and more were possibly coming. Oh, I hope I get accepted!"

"Well, you're not going to have any luck here." Matthew smiled, though it showed through as more of a grimace. "Abigail from the Krowa Station in America just left."

"_What_?" Alfred bounded forward, grasping his brother forcefully by the shoulders, a bit too tightly, and shaking the limp, lanky body of the Canadian back and forth. "Why didn't you say anything before? Are you going? How about Kiku? Can I come? Please? At least bring me back a hamburger! Oh, and some fast food fried, and a cola, and-"

"Alfred! We may not be going!" Matthew choked out, fearful of getting whiplash from his twin's vigorous shaking. "We've only just started considering it!"

"Aw, you have to go! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" Alfred released his deathly grip on his twin and plopped down on a lounging chair, letting out a long sigh. "I'd better be able to go! Think you could put in a good word for me?" The American flashed Matthew a quivering puppy-dog-gaze, glancing up from behind troubled eyebrows.

"I can try, if you cut it out!" His brother could truly be an idiot sometimes. "Anyway, we should probably call soon with an answer, if she's going around campus. I don't imagine them letting just anybody go- there's probably a number limit."

"I wonder if Artie and Francis are going…" Alfred pondered aloud, screwing up his face in thought

"I don't know." Kiku sat beside Alfred, thinking rather deeply as well. "They may not want to go, considering how badly citizens of _Furansu _and_ Igirisu_ seem to think of your country."

"France in your language sounds like some sort of furry ant!" Alfred mused, laughing gently. "And England doesn't sound like anything, but it would make a good nickname. A bit lengthy though… maybe Iggy?" A few minutes passed in an unbroken, unwavering silence before someone- take a wild guess who- broke the silence with a slight gasp. "Wait, did you say Krowa Station?"

"Something like that."

"They were the small news station a few cities down from Manchester. I remember watching them when Father had business in Nashua to attend to. Abigail was one of the breaking news reporters, I think. She was younger then, though."

"Huh. Interesting…" Wait… Surely that didn't leave opportunity for either brother to come into contact with their father again, did it? It would be a risk, without a doubt… Nashua was in the exact same county as Manchester, after all. But, surely, they would have no interaction at all with the dreaded man? "I wonder if anyone else has been offered…?"

"Well, Heracles called me earlier and said that he had accepted an interview by Abigail as well. And then Yao was considering his offer by the Brazilian…"

"Why is everybody awake at this hour? Is the news of foreigners on campus really that exciting?" Was everybody honestly buzzing about something so trivial and ludicrous? It was beyond the understanding of Matthew, and perhaps it always would be. Maybe it was a Canadian thing. Maybe Anette was having the same conflict. Maybe. Okay, so it wasn't likely. In fact, she would almost certainly accept any offer made to her by an interviewer. Either way… "We need to come to a logical decision. Kiku?"

"I'll tag along if you go."

Great. That didn't help him one freakin' bit. "Um… Alfred, I'm guessing you'd want to go?"

"Please~!"

Matthew sighed, sliding his spectacles back up his nose. "Well, I guess we're going to New Hampshire."

********

Gilbert hissed in pain as another quill was extracted from his arm. "Why the hell is there a freakin' porcupine on the island? The information we got at the beginning of the year said nothing about- _ouch, damnit! _Be more careful over there!"

"Shut up, potato-bastard! I'd like to see you do any better!" Lovino snapped back, yanking another lengthy quill from the so-called Prussian's arm. "Next time, don't come to our restaurant with needles stuck in your arm!"

"Like hell I will!" Gilbert groaned, wincing again as the Italian gave another tug on one of the needles. "Where's Antonio? Or Feli? Or, hell, even Ludwig? I'd rather have one of them taking these- _ow!_"

"Feliciano's packing for the Spring Break Interview in Russia, even though it's a few weeks away, because he's an idiot. Antonio is still sleeping, I'd imagine, and the other potato-bastard is… Well, I don't know, I don't bother with his ass!"

"Ow!"

"Ah, this one's stuck in there pretty good." As the blood continued to stream down the Prussian's arm, Lovino continued to tug, prompting another shriek from Gilbert. "Hold still or it's going to get stuck in there further!"

"I'm trying, you-" He stole a glance at the clock, nearly toppling over in alarm. "Oh great, classes start in five minutes! Fuck it, I'm leaving!"

"It's a Saturday." With those final words, Lovino grasped a firm hold on the stuck quill and plucked it clean from Gilbert's arm, earning one final, rather uncharacteristic scream from the albino. "Jeez, and people call Italians pathetic. I would have thought you had more pain tolerance than that."

"Shut up, you said yourself that it was stuck in pretty far! I'm too awesome to feel excruciating pain."

"That doesn't even make sense, you-" He halted in his sentence, taking another glance at the Prussian's bloody forearm. "Here!" he huffed, tossing Gilbert a rag. "Wipe yourself off and grab an apron, you're filling in for Feli today."

"What? You've gotta be fucking kidding me! There's no way in hell-"

"E-Excuse me?" The Brazilian news man approached the two quarreling men, a rather… well,_ horrified _expression on his face. But, really, who wouldn't be utterly frightened at the sight- two men at each other's throats, one of which red-eyed and bleeding profusely from the forearm, the other fuming with the blood of the other man all over his hands and a chopping knife in his grasp. "U-Um… N-Nevermind. Good… uh, good day. _Bom dia!_" With those final utterances, the Brazilian man fled for his dear life, never once stealing a glance back at the two bloodied students.

"Well… there go our chances of leaving for a week." Lovino sighed, glaring daggers at the potato-bastard.

"Eh, the Russian would have been used to something like this, and the American would have been too stupid to run. Leave it to the Brazilian to flee in terror."

"I have nothing against Brazilians."

A few moments pass in silence. "So…" Gilbert mutters, nearly collapsing from the unbearable quiet. "There's a blonde woman and her husband, and-"

"Now you're starting those stupid blonde jokes?" Lovino inquired, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "Honestly… Of course, the other potato-bastard is a blonde… I have nothing against fair-haired people, but continue on. If the Stupid Potato gets accepted for the interview as well, it will just be me and Antonio, and we'll need a replacement or two." Unfortunately, the Spanish idiot had made pretty good friends with the Prussian, and knew that Antonio would be persistent. The two idiots were close to Francis too, but they both figured the Frenchman would be a bit too preoccupied, as usual. "Go ahead, then. I have to learn to put up with your crappy attempt at a joke."

Gilbert smirked, leaning against the wall as he told his blonde joke. "So, there's a blonde woman and her boyfriend sitting on the couch, watching the news. The man on the news finished up the weather report, then moves on to the breaking news, stating that two Brazilian men died in a skydiving accident. The blonde woman starts bawling, and the boyfriend can only comfort her, saying things to try and comfort her, though he is unsure of her sudden sadness- sure, it was tragic that two Brazilian men had died, but that sort of thing happens. The woman calms down. A few moments pass. She turns to her boyfriend and asks, "How many is a Brazilian?" Get it?"

Lovino said nothing, nor did he give the slightest laugh. He merely took the broom from its spot on the wall and thwacked Gilbert upon the back with it. "That was one of the worst jokes I've ever heard."

"What? But it makes sense, doesn't it? Or are you too damned slow to understand? A Brazilian… you know, like a bazillion? Or a billion? Two Brazilian men died? Oh, screw you." And Gilbert and Lovino would remain in the restaurant for the next three hours, bickering eternally until Antonio would arrive to force them apart.

********

"Wait- You're going too?" Matthew questioned later that evening, after having confirmed his trip with Abigail. He sat behind the counter at the Ranniku Tea Shoppe while Kiku and Arthur conversed back in the office. Anette stood in front of the other Canadian, sipping a cup of warm green tea at the bar and making idle chat with the calmer of the North American twins.

"Of course I am!" Anette scoffed light-heartedly, dabbing her moist upper lip with a napkin. "What, do I not seem like an eligible person?"

"It's not that!" Matthew reassured, raising his hands in defense. "We're both Canadian, remember? They'll interview us both in Nashua, and the word will get out! This could cause international chaos between Canada and the other nations of the world! People are all about equal representation, even in an Institute that nobody knows anything about."

"Well… then you'll need to impersonate somebody, I guess."

"Exactly. We- Wait, _me_?! Why me?"

"Because you're the one who isn't supposed to be here, not me. Just find somebody who's not going and get them to agree to getting impersonated. Very few people are actually going to these interviews. Try Gilbert- he's not from an actual country anyway. Or maybe that Latvian kid, nobody'll even notice."

"You're so considerate," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes briefly. "Fine, I'll see what I can do. I'll get back to you as soon as I find somebody to pose as."

"Good. After all, there are more males on campus than females- I couldn't possibly pretend to be one of the boys."

_Are you sure about that? Your personality would fit well enough. Come to think of it, why are the news staff even allowed on the island? They've been all about secrecy and whatnot since the Institute was built!_ "It's decided, then. Arthur and Francis are going too, thank goodness. Or perhaps not; Arthur plus Francis _and_ Alfred? Not a good combo."

Anette chuckled, turning to gaze out the window. "Ain't that the truth?"

* * *

A/N: So, how do like this approach? The remainder of the series will center around the times in New Hampshire, as well as the _very important_ information about what's going on back at the Institute. Yes, something's going to happen on the island while the main group is gone, something crucial to the ending. Of course, the parts of the interview and whatnot are quite important as well, so stay tuned~!

_Un cambiamento di scenario_- Italian for "A Change of Scenery"

**R&R~! Lemme know how you like or dislike the possible interviews and whatnot! And do you get Gilbert's joke? xD Again, hope you didn't take offense, and I'm sorry if it was bad.**


	24. Estilo de Vida Ajustes, en Ambas Partes

A/N: Sorry about the last chapter and the lack of page-breaks. I put them in there, but I guess FF doesn't like my page breaks anymore. Blah. Also sorry this took so long to get out- I had trouble differentiating between what would happen in this chapter and what would happen next.

"So, you_ are_ going!" Matthew commented gleefully, speaking softly to Arthur and Francis, all of which clenched many suitcases tightly within their grasps. The first flight to New Hampshire would depart soon- upon which Matthew, Kiku, Arthur, Francis, and Heracles would leave. Alfred, Anette, and a few others had decided to take the later flight and would leave a few hours afterward. Indeed, after leaving their original countries, the majority of the selective few students had never expected to return to their former homes- after all, most of them had accepted the opportunity to attend the Institute for a clean start, a fresh slate. And, yet, here were a few of them- Alfred, Matthew, Anette- who were returning to their previous continent- 'twas deeply astounding, from their points of view.

Francis stole a wink at the Canadian male, slinking an arm slyly around his lithe waist. "Yes, _mon ami_. It took quite a bit of convincing on Arthur's part, but he finally agreed to go along when he heard you and Kiku would be going as well. He really_ can't_ tolerate the rest of us, I suppose."

"E-Eh, I guess…" Voice failing as he flinched at the sudden contact, Matthew lurched away a bit, straying from the Frenchman's enveloping arm. Clearing his throat at the sudden silence, his violet eyes averted their eyes to the sign above the platform, reading the words quietly within the safety in his own head. _Looks like it's time to go._

"Shall we?" Kiku mumbled, staring distantly out the window. Nestled within the bulge of his pocket was a rather large container with various pills of the same type- namely used for stress and anxiety. Why? Honda Kiku had developed a rather nasty case of culture shock the last time he visited the Americas, which was about fifteen or so years ago, and while he may have been a child back then, he did not wish to face the consequences of going unprepared.

Arthur nodded, frowning a bit as Heracles began to doze off and lean his head in at the Briton's shoulder. "And quickly, if possible. Psst, Heracles! Wake up, we're leaving."

_Well, Mother, it would seem that we've begun an entirely new adventure, off in Alfred's homeland. I can only hope things go relatively well from here on out, and although I would love to deny it, I have this feeling in my gut that Alfred's going to come into contact with Father once more. As far as I know, they've been keeping quiet with each other, but there very well may be something going on that I'm not aware of. And then there were the little… er, _conversations _that we had spoken over a while back, many weeks ago. He hasn't responded to those, obviously, seeing as how Alfred managed to block off all phone connections that I had with anyone. Honestly, that man… he's bright enough, but he can be so stupid sometimes! Ah, the plane is going to take off soon. Talk to you later, Mother._

"Hey... Kiku?" Heracles approached the Japanese man, taking the seat beside him in need for conversation. "Do they really let you bring meds on the plane?"

"W-Well, they do here, but I will probably have to put them in my suitcase once we arrive in the Hawaiian airport. I don't think I'll be allowed to have them until we reach New Hampshire."

Arthur sighed, taking the seat beside Matthew in haste before Francis could sit next to him and utterly demolish any ounce of sanity he had left. The Frenchman instead prompted to take a seat behind the two, giving him opportunity to poke, touch inappropriately, and ultimately bother them out of their wits. Matthew released a not-so-mellow sigh, turning to gaze out the window in awe as the plane began to take off. It was going to be a long, long week.

* * *

_Those two idiots have been at it for hours…_ Lovino thought bitterly, lips forming a scowl as he wiped clean each table of the restaurant with a rag. Antonio and Gilbert sat in the opposite room, chatting and making blatant conversation with each other rather loudly. And then there was Lovino- while his brother and the potato freak were out in Russia and America, he had been stuck with the duties at their restaurant, along with Antonio… not that that was really saying much. Unfortunately for him, the Spaniard had invited Gilbert to come over as well, and had put the so-called Prussian to "work"- which, by their definition, seemed to mean "to laze around and joke". It was nothing short of aggravating, and Lovino swore he would get back at those two for making him do all of the work.

"Hey, either of you want to come help me try to prepare the pasta?" he called bitterly, sour frown everlasting upon that irritated face as he placed the rag in the sink.

Gilbert's head poked around the corner, casting a smirk at the Italian that Lovino so desperately wanted to smack. "Nah, I wouldn't bother. Most of the students that come by here regularly are gone, right? There's no point in making pasta if no one is going to come to order some."

"Just because our regular customers won't be here today doesn't mean that we won't have anyone buying our food!" Oh, honestly, didn't that man know anything about operating a semi-classy restaurant? His lack of knowledge about the most seemingly-simplistic things gave the Italian's blood reason to boil, perhaps even more so than the pasta he had planned on cooking. "One of you, get back here and help me!"

"I'll pass." Okay, that "Prussian" had seriously crossed the line this time. Lovino threw down his wooden spoon in haste and ripped off the apron, nearly tearing it in the process as he huffed off in anger.

"Fine, fine!" he shouted back, a somewhat crazed smile now replacing the usual frown. "I'll leave _you two _to the cooking!" With those final words, Lovino shut the front door behind him, not once gazing back at the building, where Antonio and Gilbert continued to converse, either paying no mind to the Italian's words or completely missing the fact that he had said anything at all.

"So, anyway, Toni," Gilbert continued, downing a cup of coffee as though it were his gateway to heaven. "What do you think? Are you in or not?"

"Hmm…" Antonio's smile faded, for once in his happy-enough life, as he pondered over what had been said previously. "I don't know. I mean, it's not like I wouldn't want to know more about what's going on behind our backs, but I… I'm not sure that's really my thing, you know? Ask someone else- I'm sure Lovi would be happy to help! Besides, he_ is_ Feli's brother- I'm sure he'd be just as useful as his brother."

"I wouldn't be so sure…" Gilbert murmured under his breath, finishing off the last swig of coffee in the mug. "But, I guess if he's the only other option left, I'll have to take the little asshole. Just don't go telling anyone about this, got it?"

"Of course not!" And, of course, the grin returned to the Spaniard's face. "I wouldn't dream of it! I'll take care of the restaurant in case anyone comes- you go find Lovi and convince him to go along with you."

The Prussian nodded, frowning at the inkling of taking the elder Italian brother along with him. While Feliciano was an innocent, friendly man who was quite easily ordered around, Lovino was no such person. He was pessimistic, had a fowl mouth, and snapped at virtually everyone. He was one of the sourest people Gilbert had ever met in his lifetime- not to mention the Italian had a freakish hatred towards him and Ludwig for being "German Potato Bastards". He and the blonde German had never done a single freakin' thing to the jerk, but that never seemed to concern Lovino.

"Hey, Lovino! Wait up, you pain in the ass!" Gilbert called across campus as the Italian's back came into view in the distance. Lovino turned to glance at him, scowling all the while, and flashed him the bird before running more quickly in the opposite direction. "Damn it!" Gilbert released an exasperated sigh, gritting his teeth in resistance to the urge to tackle the Italian to the ground and pummel him into the next century. After about five minutes of pursuit around the island, he came upon an exhausted Lovino by the north shore, hunched over and holding his sides in attempt to regain his breath.

"Alright… what do you want… bastard?" he huffed, panting for air as he met the crimson eyes of the albino before him. "Shouldn't you… stay out of the sun…?"

"Why does everybody think I'm albino?!" Gilbert questioned rather loudly, an irritated expression worn upon his face. "I'm _not_ albino!"

"Then what's up with the freaky red eyes? And the white hair?"

"It's platinum blonde! And my eyes are a reddish-brown, if you look closely enough… Anyway, that's not what I wanted to come talk to you about! Shut up and listen, for once!"

Lovino froze, eyes narrowing in disgust. "Wanna run that by me again?"

"Look, I don't like you, and you don't like me-"

"Don't like you? No, I can assure you that I absolutely loathe the idea of you even existing, and I wish with my heart's desires that you would jump off of a cliff and fracture your neck, the bone of which then cutting into your jugular vein and killing you instantly. But, hey, that doesn't matter."

"Alright, point taken. Either way, hear me out. Toni did suggest you, you know- he thinks you'd do as good of a job as your brother."

"Che. Figures."

"Quit interrupting me! Honestly, your brother did a really fucked up job of it, but I enjoyed his company. Anyway, here's the plan- While a few of the students are busy in other countries, you and I are going to infiltrate the main building. We're going to look for anything that may tell us what they want with-"

"Hell no. Now leave me alone." Lovino turned away, arms crossed and curl bobbing as he walked out towards the water and sat down in the shallow seawater. "I don't want to be a part of your stupid schemes."

"Oh, come on! Quit being such a stick in the mud! Everyone's sick of hearing you complain all of the time! Perk up a little, you annoying-"

"Shut up!" Lovino snapped, whirling around to face the Prussian with newfound anger flashing in his eyes of hazel. "As if you'd know a thing about me! Try getting shown up by your brother at everything- then come tell me a thing or two about how my mood should be!"

Gilbert remained silent for a moment or two before stomping a foot into the moist sand and plopping down beside the Italian, facing away from him. "Get over it. Who are you to let some childish thing like that to come between you and the people around you? It's fucking immature!"

"Why, you-!"

"Are you in or not?"

"Excuse me?" Lovino pushed Gilbert over with an annoyed shove. "After all of this crap that you've been throwing at me, you expect me to just-"

"Yeah, I do." Gilbert smirked, eyes narrowed in a victorious pride. "For many reasons. First off, you're dating Toni, are you not? He's the one who recommended you, so you wouldn't want to upset him, right?"

Lovino's eyes widened, face flushing with a bright pink. "Who told you about-?"

"Secondly, your brother didn't do well as my subordinate. You'd take this opportunity to try and show him up at something you may be able to do better. Why? Because that's how your fucked up little mind works- you're more predictable than you seem."

Lovino opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again in thought. His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened, scowl soon replaced by an agitated frown. Finally, after an eternity of silence passed between the two, Lovino uttered a little "Humph" and shoved his "companion" back into the sand. "If you actually help out around the restaurant instead of being the dead animal in the corner, I'll consider breaking in as well. Not as your subordinate, but as an equal- no, as your superior."

"That's not happening. But you can accompany me, and we'll see where things go from there. Deal?"

Glancing down at the hand held out to shake, Lovino reluctantly reached forward as well. "Deal." And, of course, Gilbert Beilschmidt just had to pull his hand away and thrust the Italian into the sand, earning Lovino a mouthful of the disgustingly salty grains. "Bastard!" he swore, reaching back with a fist to punch the other man in the face.

"Punch me later- I left Antonio back at the restaurant alone. Meet me tomorrow night outside the main office building- eleven o' clock."

"Che."

* * *

"Well, I suppose we should settle down into our rooms, yes?" Alfred said upon their arrival in New Hampshire, setting down his suitcase by the main hall of their supposed hotel building. He turned his attention to the group, watching as the majority of them in his own group were nearly asleep standing up. He sighed, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Wonder where Mattie, Iggy, and the others are…" He also wondered deeply how his father was doing- was he finally sobering up? Or had he gone into a self-destructive fury and ultimately begin to ruin his life for an eternity? It concerned him greatly- after all, he had not heard word from his father in months- it was only right for him to be worried, even if the man was a complete bastard sometimes…

Gazing up at the sky, the American proceeded to drag his things inside and exhale a sigh of contention.

As with everything else in their life, it seemed only time would tell.

* * *

**A/N: These are getting bolded to help differentiate between author's notes and plot. Annoying formatting changes…**

**Estilo de Vida Ajustes, en Ambas Partes- Lifestyle Adjustments, on Both Parts**

**Anyways, lemme know what you thought! I have a new goal- reach 200 reviews by the end of this series. Let's make it happen~!**

**R&R~!**


	25. Misugosa Machigai

**A/N: Never did I expect it to take over a month to update this series, and for that I apologize greatly. Things have been coming up, and for a while, my computer as acting up as well. But, now, I should be able to update quickly, perhaps even every other day. I am hoping to finish this story within the next month or so. Hopefully by mid-July this will have come to a conclusion. Thank you for your patience and time.**

QQQQQQQQ

Matthew groaned deeply into the lack-of-comfort of his pillow, voice muffled gently by the cottony material of the sleeping cushion. The sun had rudely split through the glass barrier of the windowpane, shining rays of unwelcoming light through to the Canadian's bedspread, awakening him in an instant with its sinister beams of radiance. Emitting a slight, shaky sigh, Matthew rose from his spot beneath the average-quality bed sheets, blinking the exhaustion from amethyst eyes before standing and maneuvering his way over to the bathroom. Lethargically, he slipped on a decent pair of slacks and a dressy top, doing his typical tasks such as brushing his teeth and shaving, in a feeble, sleepy attempt to enhance his outwardly appearance, though soon realized it was futile and took his departure from the hotel room. _Today's the day… My interview with the broadcasting station. Ah, I don't stand much of a chance, do I…? Well, hopefully things will work out for the better._

"Mattie!" And, just as it had been for the past months spent at the Institute, his beloved twin's voice met him promptly in the hallway on the path to breakfast. "So, it's finally today, isn't it? The interview, I mean. We're going to be broadcast on live television! Ack, this is so amazing!"

"It's going to be _live_?" Matthew felt his voice crack at the end of his sentence. As previously mentioned, his worst subject back in high school had always been the Speech classes- the combination of this and other factors implied that he was… well, basically screwed. He never should have agreed to such an interview in the first place, and under normal circumstances, he probably wouldn't have. Unfortunately, it had been one of those things that he knew he just had to suck up and deal with. "Great…"

"Aw, come on, you'll do fine!" Alfred shot him a flashy smile, cocky and arrogant as always. "You're _my_ brother- there's no way some little, insignificant interview is going to mess with the twin of Alfred F. Jones!"

At those ridiculous words, the Canadian felt a warm smile spread across his face. "Yeah, right… Anyway, what time is it again?"

"We're supposed to arrive around 10:30. But, hey, don't worry about it- from what I've gathered, they're interviewing us as a group, so you shouldn't be singled out by anyone."

"That's good. At least I have something working for me…" Matthew stole a few glances around, sitting down at one of the clean tables in the main lobby, where breakfast was being served. "Where are the others?"

"No idea. I haven't seen anyone all morning." Alfred brought his hand forth, enclosing his hand around a small little cup that had been placed upon the table. "What do you want to drink?"

"Normally, I would just order milk, but I think I need some caffeine. A double-shot cappuccino, thanks." The Canadian was in absolutely no mood to deal with his brother today- nor to deal with much else, mind you. All motivation he had previously possessed had dissipated into nothing in the course of an hour, and would only continue to diminish as the day proceeded, without a doubt. It was bad enough that he had to go to an interview- he also had to impersonate Gilbert for three reasons (the "Prussian" wasn't going, nobody believed he was any different from a German, and Anette was supposed to be the Canadian in the first place- she _was_ going). Thankfully, at least, he wouldn't be forced to completely act as Gilbert did, and could likely answer the questions truthfully, as though he were, in fact, supposed to be there.

It was going to be a long, strenuous day.

QQQQQQQQ

"Alright…" Arthur muttered, standing behind the curtain that veiled the students of the Institute from the camera that would ultimately reveal them to the entire North American continent. "Well, I expect they'll call us back soon. Everybody ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be… which, sadly, isn't very much," Matthew whispered back, teeth chattering a bit in anxiety. He stood in apprehension between Arthur and Anette, both giving away no inkling of their nerves. Kiku, Francis, and Heracles made up the remainder of the line, extending along his left side. The group all remained behind a curtain, as the newscast reporter announced some big announcement.

"Alright, everyone," the woman's voice graced their ears, cheerily ringing throughout the expanse of audience and somehow managing to sound above the many screams and calls of the men and women of the United States, Canada, Mexico, and the other surrounding countries. "We have here today a very special gathering of guests. As I announce their names, I hope you will give them each a round of applause. First off, the student from England, Arthur Kirkland!"

Arthur cast a blushing glance down the line of students before walking past the curtain and into plain sight, smiling sheepishly at all of the Americans. _Ugh, it's like ten thousand Alfreds… _A little shudder racked his body before he sat down, legs crossed and hands in his lap in a dainty, almost snobbish manner.

"And, next up, the representative of the country of France, Francis Bonnefoy!"

"Good luck, _mon ami_," Francis whispered in Matthew's ear, reaching over to grab a flustered Canadian male's rear before flaunting his way out onto the set. Matthew flinched a foot into the air, breathing heavy and panting at the unwanted contact. Damned Frenchman- the poor twin was already having trouble staying calm!

"Third, as well as the only female of our group, Anette Gray of Canada!"

Anette continued to stand beside Matthew, casting a sidelong glance at the wall in boredom. A long while paused in silence as the crowd awaited her entrance onto the set. After a long minute, as well as her name getting repeated multiple times, Matthew caught on and nudged his Canadian companion with his shoulder. "Hey, you're up!" Of course she couldn't hear her name being called!

"W-What? Are you kidding me? Ah, damn-!" Face turning a rare crimson, the Canadian woman fled past the curtain, apologizing for her mistake and sitting down beside Francis, much to her dismay- though she made sure her point was clear with the Frenchman through means of a brief death glare.

"Matthew Williams, from the extinct empire of Prussia!" Forcing a heavy gulp of saliva back down his throat, the Canadian-turned-Prussian exited behind the curtain as well, casting a nervous glance at the cameras flashing before taking a seat silently beside Anette. At least the lesser of two evils had been survived well enough… now he just had to endure the remainder of the day. Not an easy task, mind you, particularly for a man who was equally quiet and untruthful about his origin.

"Heracles Karpusi, the man from Greece!" The Greek man followed out to sit beside Arthur, equally silent as Matthew, though wearing a much more bored expression upon his mug.

"And, lastly, Alfred Jones of the _United States of America_!" At those final words, the crowd of primarily Americans burst into a rapid applause, racket erupting from among the crowd more so than with any of the other students. Arthur rolled his eyes, muttering something (likely crude) about Americans under his breath as Alfred walked out from behind the veil, grinning to the audience and casting a heroic pose before taking his seat in the last spot, beside his "Prussian" brother.

"Alright," the lady said, sitting off to the side and gazing down the line of college students. "Let's start with you, Alfred." She was clearly going down the line, though this deeply bothered Matthew to no end- it implied that he would most likely be going next, without the slightest idea of what to do. "Did you ever expect to become a part of such a legendary institute?"

_What a stupid question, of course he didn't expect to!_ Matthew thought, shaking his head slightly. Alfred grinned wider, turning to face the woman, who appeared to be about thirty-five. "Not at all. I mean, my family has always been really wealthy, but I never expected something like this to come into play. Don't get me wrong though- I'm really glad it did. I've gotten the chance to bring up my academics, and I've made a bunch of new friends." It was, quite possibly, the most typical answer someone of his type could have given- not that anyone was complaining, per say. He had just chosen the exceptionally simple way out.

"I see, I see…" She then advanced down the line, coming across Matthew and smiling at him, though 'twas blatantly an artificial grin for the purposes of winning over the audience. "And you are Matthew, yes? Tell me, why did they choose to enroll a… erm, _Prussian_ if the nation no longer exists?"

"I…" Honestly, Matthew hadn't the slightest idea why that had been. His voice hitched in his throat for a few brief seconds as he pondered over what to say, but decided upon something that sounded legitimate- even a bit Gilbert-esque. "The Prussian society will never die! We're still a nation, whether the rest of the world wishes to view us that way or not!"

"O-Oh, alright then…" Then she cocked her head to the side ever-so-slightly, hesitating before continuing her interview. "Wow, excuse me for saying so, but you strike an uncanny resemblance to Alfred, here."

"Why does everybody say that?" Alfred rolled his eyes, acting the part and sighing in exasperation. He and his twin had figured something like this happening, and had taken the time prior to the interview to plan out what they were going to say in response. "I can't stand how people do that! I've got nothing against Matthew, but I hardly know the guy! We can't be related!"

"I never said you were related…" she replied, raising an eyebrow in question. Matthew immediately dropped his forehead down into his palm, twitching a bit in irritation with his brother. Leave it to Alfred to completely let something like that slip.

"What? Aren't you going to ask me something?" Anette demanded, arms crossed over her chest in phony aggravation. "Look, lady, I don't have all day. Move on."

"E-Er… right. You must be Anette Gray, correct?" She spoke slowly and carefully, much to Anette's amusement, in attempt to communicate. Apparently the cast had been entirely aware of the fact she was deaf- although they had attempted to call her name earlier?- and felt the need to treat her as such. "Mind telling us what life at the Institute is like?"

"Not at all." A scowl spread across her face- clearly interviews weren't her cup of tea, either. "I enjoy snack time and coloring- I can even color inside the lines!" At this she snorted, noticing the baffled expression that had overcome the lady's expression. "Seriously, if you expect an honest answer from me, don't talk to me as though I were a five-year-old."

"P-Pardon me…?" Matthew sighed, moaning into his hand as the interview proceeded on, though now every single camera was flashing tenfold after Anette's little scene. The reporter cleared her throat, blush spreading like a raging wildfire along her cheeks. "Alright, then. What is the school like, for someone like you?"

"Someone _like me_?" Her voice rose a bit, and it took all of her energy not to jump right up and strangle the American woman. She had met plenty of respectable Americans in her lifetime, but this one was pushing her over the edge. Perhaps her deaf condition was the single thing that set her off more so than any other idea. "Someone like me… rmmm. Well, I go through each class, just as everyone else does. I go home, eat dinner, go to bed. Anything else?"

"… Could you tell us anything more than that? About the classes, perhaps?"

"Not a chance. That's classified."

"But… you _do _know more?"

"Of course I know more!" Anette began to shout, though lowered her voice once more as a smirk replaced the scowl. "You aren't going to lose your job for this, are you?"

"Moving on! How about you, Francis?" At that, Anette crossed her legs and flashed a wink at a group of Canadians in the corner. Matthew shook his head, nudging her in the shoulder. That was completely uncalled for… both the wink and the smart comments.

"_Oui?_" Francis brushed his golden locks of hair back with the back of his hand, passionately staring at the older woman in attempt to win her over.

"What would you say it is that sets this college apart from others?"

"That's easy! This college has such a diverse community, compared to that of other schools. Why, I have never had so many romances in all of my years in France as I have in this single year at the Institute."

"That's... eh…" The woman cleared her throat once more, turning back to the camera. "We'll be back after this commercial break!"

QQQQQQQQ

"Well, _that_-" Arthur stated plainly back behind stage, rubbing his temples as a migraine ultimately overtook his skull. "-was an utter mess."

"I'll say. Sorry I let that slip, Mattie. I guess I was just a bit too comfortable talking about it…" Alfred patted his brother upon the shoulder. "Don't worry, though- Father is supposed to be at a meeting right now, and it's not likely he will have seen the broadcast. Besides, he's many miles away, in Manchester…"

"It's not that far away, Alfred…" Matthew sighed, readjusting his glasses upon his nose before turning towards his Canadian companion. "And Anette! Thanks for helping us avoid the conversation about our relation, but you went way over the top! What _was _that back there, with the smart comments?"

"She offended me. I'm fine with people disliking me, but _nobody_ insults my pride with little deaf remarks. I was just being honest with what I thought of her- I'm a typically honest person, when I need to be."

"But that's-"

"I have every right to defend myself! Hey, look at it this way- the only ones left are Arthur and Heracles, and they're quite possibly the sanest of any of us here. No need to stress any longer." Anette blinked once, twice, before coming to a sudden realization. "Wait, where's Kiku?" Indeed glancing around, the Japanese man was nowhere to be found. How peculiar… he had mentioned nothing of his departure…

"You don't think she'll ask us any more questi-" Alfred began, though soon found his voice being cut off by the blaring of his cell phone, and the insistent vibrating of his pants pocket. "If I'm still on the phone, tell her I'll be out in a minute." With those words, he flipped the phone's top and placed it by his ear. "Hello?"

"Your interview was certainly… interesting." Alfred froze, turning to face his beloved brother with a look of horror spread across his face. Swiftly, he mouthed the word "Father" before responding to his sire's words.

"A-Ah, thanks… I thought you were at a meeting?"

"They had a television."

_Shit… shit, shit shit… _"Really? So, I did pretty well, didn't I?" Alfred pushed a button instantaneously, putting the phone on speaker for his twin to hear as well.

"Well enough, but…" The line on the other end remained silent for a few moments before continuing. "Mind putting the _Prussian_ on the phone?" _He knows, he knows! _It was no longer (officially) a secret- Matthew Williams was a student of the Institute.

Matthew swallowed hard, flinching as his Father's voice resonated off of his ear drums. Hesitantly, he reached out for the phone, only for Alfred to pull it away and press the large red button, ending the call immediately. "Alfred!" Matthew exclaimed, violet eyes wide in complete dread. "You idiot! You damned idiot! Give me the phone!"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, Mattie, I-"

"No, I'm not going to calm down! You just hung up on our Father! _Our_ Father! We're only a little while from Manchester! He could come here any moment, find out where you're staying, and murder you into the next century!"

"He wouldn't murder me, no matter how crazed he gets."

"Not literally! But the next worse thing! He will beat you to a bloody pulp! I'm sick of living in fear of him… and you've just given him reason to frighten me further!"

One of the newscast men approached them. "We're rolling again in one minute."

Matthew nodded, pacing to and fro and all but wearing a hole in the wooden flooring. This was bad- no, this was ridiculously horrific. That man… that blasted man would surely come after them now! There was nothing they could do to-

And he walked out with the others, glancing away in alarm from the cameras flashing from the crowd of people. "Alright, everyone," said the newscast woman- a different lady from last time, though, and considering Anette's seething fury at the other, that was probably the best decision.

And, all the while, Matthew couldn't help but wonder if, somewhere out there, their Father was still watching his two children on live television, both wearing expressions of uneasy terror.

**A/N: Oh, there's a chapter coming up sometime soon, and I can't wait to write it… Squee! Expect the next chapter soon, hopefully.**

**Misugosa machigai- Overlooked Mistake**

**R&R~!**


	26. Nun Wir sind in Schwierigkeiten

Had someone told him a week prior that Lovino Vargas would be sitting in their restaurant, awaiting the arrival of Gilbert Beilschmidt, he would have called them many crude names and deemed them crazy. But, as it was, this was exactly how the Italian had spent the entirety of his morning, leaning his full weight against the back of the seat cushion and sipping absentmindedly at a cup of coffee. He had taken his place in a booth before the shop opened, and had spent the last hour or so waiting for the potato freak's brother to come into work that day to discuss very important matters regarding what their breaking-and-entering plans would be, and how precisely they would execute them. Leave it to Gilbert, being the idiotic potato that he was, to absolutely blow it off and leave his partner in crime waiting for an excessive amount of time. As it was a Sunday, the restaurant would open a bit later that morning- therefore, the only living beings in within the room's premises were Lovino himself and a little gnat that Lovino had attempted (and failed tenfold) to smack with a fly swatter- in the end, he had basically said "to hell with it" and left it to buzz about his head, earning a prompt swat every now and then as the Italian downed his fifth cup of coffee.

Of course, Antonio was usually the first one to arrive, with Feliciano halfway across the world, and the Spaniard had yet to arrive as well- this likely indicated that he and that idiot Gilbert had probably gotten drunk the night before and were now curled in the corner of some room with a horrible hangover, ultimately unable to go to work. It seemed as though, even without the presence of Francis, those two could always manage to outdo anyone in the matter of partying like the careless idiots they all were.

So, naturally, when both Gilbert and Antonio came in simultaneously, deep in conversation about God-knows-what, Lovino felt compelled to chew the both of them out- Gilbert for taking so damned long to arrive, and Antonio for… well, just being idiotic.

"Oi, potato freak!" he snarled, slamming his mug upon the table and approaching Gilbert with a kindled flame raging in his hazel eyes. "What the hell took you so long? _You_ plan out this entire thing, for us to… _you know_, and then you show up an hour and a fuckin' half late?"

"Look, don't get your panties in a bunch!" Gilbert retorted, shrugging the smaller boy off with a wide smirk spread across his face. "We were just-"

"Enough out of you, dammit!" With that, Lovino snatched him roughly by the collar and dragged him over to the booth, forcing him to sit on the opposite side. Antonio grinned, waving a hand at his companions.

"Have fun, you two!" he called, before hanging his jacket upon the hook beside the door and proceeding behind the counter and into the kitchen for preparations.

"Alright, now that we're rid of him," Lovino began as Gilbert withdrew a large pad of paper from the inside flap of his coat, "we can get on with this. You're the one who forced my idiotic brother into this in the first place, so fill me in on what we already know."

Gilbert nodded, taking out a blue ballpoint pen and beginning to scribble all over the paper, mapping out what appeared to be a very crappy drawing of the main building upon the white surface and jabbing at Lovino with the tip. "Alright, pay attention! The main entrance is here," he placed the pen upon the bottom of the paper, writing "entrance" below the lowermost wall of the picture. "Now, we've tried getting in before, but it's guarded by both a normal key lock and a password lock. We've managed to get a key, but we have no idea what the password is. So, first we'll-"

"Charlotte."

"What was that?"

"Charlotte," Lovino repeated, arms crossed rather nonchalantly across his chest. "It's probably the password that they would have used. My grandfather, Roma- the bartender at Vinem Voro, remember? Well, he works under the headmaster, from what I've been told. At one point in time, he was in the security business, so assuming this is a high-tech lock system, the school board would have assigned him to set it up. He was also probably the one who placed the password into the system, and would have been likely to name it after something that only he and those very close to him would know about. At the time this place was constructed, and for the few months afterwards, he had been dating a girl named Charlotte."

"But… you really think he would've named it after some bit-"

"Churros?" Antonio's body appeared towering over them in an instant, offering forth a steaming platter of the Spanish pastries. Rolling his eyes, Lovino grabbed a handful for himself and watched Gilbert do the same. Antonio grinned wider, snatching a churro from the bunch for himself before clambering back into the kitchen, whistling to himself all the while.

"Trust me," Lovino said, smirking a bit at his accomplishment- evidently, Feliciano had failed to mention such an idea to the potato bastard. Score one for Lovino Vargas! "My grandfather cares about two main things- fist fights and women. Considering there isn't a whole lot to say about the first option, I'd say the woman is our best bet. That is, unless they've changed the password recently."

"I wouldn't see why they would. Who the hell would come up with "Charlotte"?" Gilbert shook his head, munching on a churro as his thought process continued. "Anyway, once we get inside, there are two wings, as well as the main office in the very front of the building. To the west is where the other offices are; you know, where all of the typical school stuff goes on- attendance offices, counselors, that sort of thing. To the east, however-" The pen slid down the right side of the paper, drawing in an arrow. "-is where everything else is. The east wing is where the files for each student are stored, and a lot of staff meetings take place in these rooms. Now, because they don't want students who have come in for counseling to stick their noses where they shouldn't, there is another locked door- this time just a combination lock- blocking the way to all of the important stuff."

"Lemme guess," Lovino interrupted, snatching the pen forcefully from the Prussian's hand. "All of this crap that you want is behind that door, right?" Gilbert nodded, allowing Lovino to continue with an impatient snort. "A combination lock, huh? I think I can help you. Couldn't we just use the old tension trick?"

"Tension…?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, proper scowl gracing his lips. "You've been going through this with this little amount of experience? No wonder you haven't broken in yet! Picking a combination lock isn't that hard."

Gilbert blinked once, twice, before snickering into his churro, nearly choking on it as he laughed incessantly. "Where the hell did you learn how to pick a lock? Or break into a building? You're making it sound so professional! The way you're going about this, you'd think you were in the mafia or something!"

Lovino cocked an eyebrow, eyes boring an acute hole into Gilbert's face. The Prussian felt his mocking laugh dissipating a bit. "W-Wait, you're not serious? You were really…?"

"Not the mafia, exactly, but a gang, to a certain degree. Not that that's any of your damned business! Focus more on the task at hand!" Lovino brought the pen down and circled the place on the drawing, where the lock was supposedly located. "Okay, so let's say I pick the lock. There are probably a lot doors down these hallways, so which one are we targeting?"

"Well, Feli and I have checked out all of the doors that open up to this hallway," he said, taking the pen back and crossing out a lengthy row of doors. "And we never found anything worth our while. I figured today we could check out these rooms and-"

"Wait, you mean we may do this more than just tonight?" Lovino rose from his spot, nearly knocking the churros to the ground in the process. "I never agreed to that!"

"Too bad. So, tonight we'll scope out this hallway, and if we don't find anything we can try the next hallway tomorrow night. Are we clear on what we're doing?" Gilbert's scarlet gaze met Lovino's hazel, daring the Italian to challenge their previous plans.

"This had better work, potato bastard." Lovino scooted out from his spot in the booth, bringing a single uneaten churro with him as he trudged towards the kitchen. "Meet tonight around eleven-thirty. And you'd better show up on time, dammit!"

Gilbert grunted, scowling a bit as a group of students approached the front doors of the restaurant, likely looking for something to eat. This was it, was it not?

Tonight, he and the Italian would infiltrate the main building.

~w~w~w~

"About time you got here!" Lovino hissed, brushing the twigs and leaves from his clothes off with a quick swipe of his hands. "I've been waiting in that damned bush for almost ten minutes!"

Both Prussian and Italian stood beneath the moonlight, standing directly in front of the main doors to the grand office building. At last, the time had come for the two to enter the building, and, all the while, they would continue to bicker, still unable to fully comprehend the purpose of this "partnership".

"Oh, get over it! And why are you covered in leaves?"

"Because I was hiding in the bushes, you idiot! You think I want people seeing me out here? It's freakin' suspicious!" Lovino shook his head in exasperation, averting his attention to rest solely on the double-locked doors. "You have the key, right?"

"Only if you remember that chick's name." Gilbert took a step nearer the door, reaching into his pocket and fingering around for the object in question. He grinned a cocky grin and withdrew a little bag, revealing the key within its cloth folds. Cautiously stepping around his accomplice, he jabbed the key into the lock, twisting it to the side and opening the first lock on the door. "You're up, Mafioso."

"Shut up." Lovino approached the keypad, effortlessly typing in the name "Charlotte" and stepping back. Well, luckily, an alarm didn't go off after he had entered in the name- to give it an experimental tug, Gilbert latched onto the handle with his gloved hands and yanked, almost shocked at the sudden ease with which it opened, revealing the front of the inside of the building.

"Yeah!" Gilbert hissed in excitement, turning sharply to the right and towards the east wing. "Okay, we'll come upon the locked door in a minute. You'd better have what you need to pick the lock."

"Che! Only idiots need actual objects to pick locks. Step back." The two came upon the locked door, and Lovino instantaneously stepped forward, taking the lock into his hands and gazing at it in curiosity. Cracking his knuckles a bit, Lovino turned the lock directly to the right thrice, placing it on the zero and readying himself. Gilbert watched intently, a rare curiosity overwhelming his actions, as Lovino worked his magic on the lock, turning it and gently tugging down on it every now and then. Whatever the hell he was doing, it seemed to be working, as he soon found that the lock gave a surrendering _click_ as it relinquished its hold on the door. "Told you I could get it off."

"Yeah, whatever. Let's go." Gilbert and Lovino advanced onward, passing down the hall in which Gilbert sand Feliciano had searched a few weeks prior. "Okay, right here! You look through this room, I'll look in this one. Let me know if you find anything of interest."

"And what the hell _is_ of interest?" Lovino inquired back, though turned and entered one of the rooms regardless. He scanned the various papers upon the desk, all of which seemed to regard the students who had attended the interviews that week. Pushing past those, the Southern Italian pulled open a drawer of a file cabinet, glancing through its many contents before all but shoving it aside. As he continued rummaging through the various résumés, personal information, and paperwork, his eyes fell upon a single scrap, with a large crimson "classified" stamped across the folder in which it was contained. Whoever had been clueless enough to leave this underneath a wastebasket was, quite possibly, more stupid than his own brother, but he force those thoughts aside as he opened the folder and looked directly at the piece of paper.

_This is-! Oh my God…_ As he continued reading down the paper, he hissed Gilbert's name, beckoning the platinum blonde to join his side. Gilbert soon took his place beside Lovino, reading curiously over the Italian's shoulder. _You mean this entire time, the point of all of this has…? And the headmaster- the head of the school board!_

"_What?_" Gilbert shouted, snatching the paper from an astonished Lovino's hands. "You mean, all of this that they've set up for us…" A hand found its way upon Gilbert's shoulder. "Lovino, what the hell, get your hand off of me. 'Tonio'd be real upset if he found out you'd-"

"You idiot!" Lovino exclaimed, flinching backwards as he turned around and caught sight of who exactly had placed his hand onto Gilbert's shoulder.

"You two are in serious trouble," stated the newcomer, and the door shut behind them.

~w~w~w~

**A/N: We're so close to the end-! Entirely Lovino and Gilbert in this chapter, though, hope nobody minded. The next chapter's big, though, so stay tuned~!**

**Please, drop a review by! I'd love to get to 150 at least before the end of this story, and since there are only a few more chapters left… well, I'd like to get there, please. Even if it is unlikely.**

_**Nun ... Wir sind in Schwierigkeiten**_**- German for "Well… we're in trouble."**

**R&R~!**


	27. So Many Years, Gone In a Flash?

A/N: I am probably not going to be able to write any more for the next two weeks, unfortunately. I've got stuff coming up, and I won't be in town… I'm sorry I couldn't finish this before I left. But, as soon as I come back, the last few chapters will be uploaded.

And, a little forewarning, this chapter is depressing. It got me down after writing it.

Enjoy~…?

~w~w~w~

"_How is she?" Matthew asked, desperation lacing his voice as he rose from his spot on the cushion. The hospital room was, he had found, quite uncomforting, as the scents of sterilization and cleanliness all but overwhelmed his nose. The walls were a pristine white, all plain, and albeit it was not offending, Matthew found it indescribably so._

_A single doctor entered the room, a clipboard tucked firmly in the crook of his arm as he took approached the teenage boy, a saddened glint evident in his eyes. "Look, I'm afraid… she-"_

_The Canadian boy didn't even wait for the doctor to finish his sentence before taking off down the hall, desperate to seek out her room. Where could she be, what had they done to her? A mist of tears streaked down his flushed cheeks as he rounded the corner, spotting the room in which she was being held. Without another thought, nor any regards to the doctor behind him, telling him not to enter, Matthew burst through the doors, approaching the lifeless, pale body laying upon the bed._

"_What… What are you doing?" he demanded, watching as one of the two physicians in the room removed the IV from her hand. "Put that back in there! Don't give up on her!"_

"_Matthew, I'm sorry," one of them whispered, patting the teary boy upon the shoulder before returning his attention to one of the nurses. "At what time was she pronounced dead?"_

"_About two thirty-six this morning, sir."_

_Matthew's heart contracted, a newly found well of tears brimming over his eyelids. "What? No, you're wrong! She can't be dead!" But, as he scanned his blurred violet eyes over to her body, motionless and frightfully stark, he knew it must be so. "She isn't… She…"_

_And he threw himself out of the doors once more, approaching the payphone and allowing the tears to flow freely down his face. He clumsily fumbled with the change and inserted the money, pressing the phone up to his ear._

"_Hello?" Alfred's voice greeted his._

"_Alfred…" he managed to choke out, sniffling heavily before continuing._

"_Mattie? What's wrong?"_

"_It's… Mother's dead, Alfred!"_

_The line went dead on the other end._

~w~w~w~

Matthew sighed, allowing the American breeze to whisper into his ear, blowing his hair around his face in a messy array. 'Twas a warm breeze, mind you, but a comforting one nonetheless. He approached a table outside of a coffee shop, grabbed a newspaper, and began to read, completely disregarding his alternative surroundings. Instantly, the headline caught his attention- something about Anette's peculiar reaction to the interview, as well as a bit more on Kiku, whom they had found out had been interviewed separately by a smaller news station as opposed to the larger one. Kiku, Alfred, and Heracles were out at the moment, buying souvenirs and whatnot.

The Canadian male sighed, gazing up at the sky above- cloudy, such a dreary day, indeed. And appropriately so, for Matthew had found himself even more bogged down over the subject of their father than ever before. The cruel man was only a few miles away, and with that last phone call that had been made to Alfred, he was anticipating the worst. In fact, their Father had yet to call back since that fateful day, which gave the Canadian even more reason to worry. So what if Matthew was a worrywart? Rightfully so!

He spent the next three hours sitting there, doing whatever he could to keep himself occupied.

Sighing, he rose from his spot on the chair and tucked the newspaper into the inner pocket of his lightweight jacket as a heavy downpour split the sky, a flash of lightening crackling and mocking his very being down below on Earth. Matthew hurriedly ducked beneath the covering tarp beside a barber shop, leaning up against the brick and slumping to the ground, readjusting his crochet hat atop his head. The streets that had once been buzzing with crowds of people were now virtually lifeless, albeit a child and her mother were running towards their apartment complex in an attempted escape from the storm. He smiled, watching the little girl as she scrambled up the steps, laughing obliviously all the while. However, as he saw her enter the building and disappear out of sight, an entirely new thing caught his attention- a large navy vehicle, not by any means a cheap car, drove up to the shop, slowing to a steady five miles per hour as it inched along the curb, and the driver caught a glimpse of the man leaning against the wall, humming to himself and awaiting the rain to pass.

Said man, Matthew, met the eyes of the driver, and instantly recoiled, nearly falling over in the slippery waters that now slicked the sidewalk. That familiar gaze, a violet much too similar to his own, though entirely dissimilar in expression… Matthew knew in an instant who exactly it must have been, and further pressed himself against the wall, never once averting his trembling eyes from the driver's.

And that's when the car parked, and out came the man whom he had come to know as Father.

~w~w~w~

"Mattie, I'm back!" Alfred called, inviting himself into the hotel room at which his twin was staying. "Mattie?" he repeated, glancing around the room in an uneasy fret. "Huh, he's not back yet…"

"Not back yet?" Kiku repeated, standing behind the American in the doorway. "He left almost four hours ago. He was supposed to be getting coffee and reading the paper- it should not have taken him so long."

"I'm sure he's just running a little late… maybe he found something else to do?" suggested Alfred, though he knew this was likely a very absurd assumption. "If he's not back in another half-hour, I'll go find him. Luckily, this town's not very big."

Kiku nodded hesitantly, though couldn't help but gaze downward in a troubled state. There was absolutely no reason for the Canadian to be gone, and they both knew that.

Perhaps it would be better if Alfred worried a bit more.

And that half-hour passed in the blink of an eye.

~w~w~w~

"Matthew?" the older man called, exiting the vehicle and taking a few steps in the direction of his disowned son.

Matthew took a few steps back in response… or, at least, attempted to. He found himself huddled against the wall, his sire approaching him with wobbly steps and outstretching a hand. "No…" he mumbled, though barely audible in all of his paranoia. He could feel the fearful tears biting away at his eyes, threatening to pool down over his cheeks. But, alas, he found himself in too frightened a state to even do so. He froze, utterly paralyzed as the man snatched him swiftly by the forearm, dragging him closer.

The Canadian cringed, the grip around his arm unbearably tight, likely to bruise. As the older man brought him closer, Matthew was all but overwhelmed by the sudden stench of heavy alcohol that lingered about his father's body. "No!" he screamed, a bit more forcefully this time, though still unconvincing, as he wrenched himself from his Father's grasp. "You're drunk!"

"What does it matter? I need you out of the way, boy." He reached out again for Matthew's arm, though stumbled forward and almost lost his balance in his state of drunkenness.

"What? Y-y-you're-"

"I'm not gonna kill you, brat! Quit groveling!" Was this truly what their father had become after intoxication? Was this what Alfred had had to deal with all of those years alone at home? A sudden rage welled up within Matthew's chest, threatening to burst out. "Listen to me, _very closely_. You are going to get out of that school, and stay the hell away from my son. You are-"

And burst it did. Matthew lunged forward, shoving the man to the ground with a flame of anger burning in his eyes. "Your son? Get it through your head, you bastard! _I'm_ as much of your son as Alfred is, and… quite frankly, that's not much! You're not our father, and you never have been. _You're_ the one who should get out of Alfred's life, not me!" Matthew stumbled back, however, and cupped a hand over his mouth, heart threatening to palpitate out of his chest. He had just yelled at…

The older man coughed a few times before standing back up, taking two steps towards the Canadian, voice deathly quiet. "I am going to make you regret those words, boy. And, rest assured, I will make you stay away from Alfred, one way," a fist met Matthew's stomach, and the younger male toppled over in pain, "-or another."

Matthew grimaced, managing to stand back up before his sire made a fist again, ready for another drunken attack. _He's not conscious of what he's doing,_ he told himself, skidding away from the man before he could get injured further. As much as the anger had welled up inside of him, he knew that the vast majority of this that was talking was, indeed, the alcohol, and Matthew knew he didn't have it in him to punch back, unless he absolutely had to. Dodging another punch, he shoved the man away forcefully and took off in the opposite direction, ears throbbing with the sound of his heart.

He cast a gaze back at his Father's form, which was now distantly behind him, getting into the car. _Oh my god, he's chasing after me!_ Panic arisen within, Matthew ran harder, panting heavily as he rounded the corner and hopped the fence, making his way to a street opposite his Father, making it more difficult to be ensnared while he caught his breath. He doubled over, puffing out little breaths of air as he desperately tried to normalize both his breathing rate and heart rate. Matthew shuddered, rubbing the tender skin of his now-purple forearm with his palm. All of this madness, all of this time… Alfred had been dealing with the likes of _that_ for so many years. Was it too much to just ask it all to stop?

And his Father's car approached him once more, and the chase ensued.

~w~w~w~

"Mattie's gotta be around here somewhere!" Alfred said, a slight panic arising in his voice. He and the rest of the interviewed students (Kiku, Arthur, Anette, Francis, Heracles…) had split up, looking about in different parts of town for their Canadian friend. He and Anette had taken this particular road, and had been searching for at least ten minutes with no avail.

Anette sighed, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "I don't see him anywhere. Think we should go back and report to the others? Or maybe to the police?"

"No," Alfred called back, rushing out ahead to look further. _I know he's around here somewhere. I can feel it. All I know is that he'd better not be in trouble. As heroic as I may be, I don't know if I'll be able to save him without so much as a piece of evidence. Oh, Mattie, where could you be?_

"Hey, Alfred!" Anette's voice met his ears, and he instantly turned to face her. "Here's a coffee shop- do you think he went to this one?"

"It's possible. Let's keep looking!" he shouted back, and continued running forward. The sudden screech of tires, however, soon halted his thought process. "This way!" He turned to face her and called back, rounding the corner and racing down the street.

Alfred rushed forward in a desperate panic, Anette trying desperately to hold him back as a hand clamped onto his shirt, and many different things crossed his field of vision.

And the scene unfolded before his eyes.

His Father's car.

A different truck approaching from the right side, sliding along the road on the slick wetness.

His brother's violet eyes, wide and meeting his in a flash.

And, lastly, the pool of crimson that soon engulfed the road before him.

"_Matthew_!"

~w~w~w~

**A/N: … Please, don't kill me for leaving you there. I'm sorry, really I am, but you'll have to wait to find out what happened. I'll try my best to get it up within the next week or so, but it probably won't happen. I hope I get some reviews though- I'm curious to see your input- especially if you hate me with a burning passion now…**

**R&R~!**


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